All the Way Home I'll Be Warm
by JoBethMegAmy. my homegirls
Summary: Ever wonder what the first holiday was like that Maura spent with the Rizzoli's? I thought it'd be fun to explore that a little, so here it is: when Maura is still relatively new to BPD, Jane thinks it would be an act of good cheer to invite the lonely doc over for some Christmas festivities. Silly Rizzles Christmas fluff. *EPILOGUE posted! ... finally...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Okay, so I'm a tad obsessed with Christmas. And I'm more than a tad obsessed with Rizzles. Hence, this.  
Also, I couldn't help myself and stuck a couple of Gilmore Girls references in there :)

* * *

When Jane Rizzoli came swaggering through the doors of the Dirty Robber one early December day, Frost, Frankie, and Korsak began a round of applause. It was soon picked up by many other patrons of the bar, and Jane waved awkwardly. Glancing up at the TV behind the bar, she was jarred to see footage of herself walking casually out of a courthouse.

"Hey, Murray, c'mon," she said, sitting at the stool next to Frost. "Switch to somethin' else, please?"

"Anything for Boson's finest," Murray acquiesced, changing the channel to ESPN.

"That was a helluva case," Korsak said, slapping Jane on the back. "You did good today, Jane."

"Yeah," she sighed absent-mindedly. It was just good to have the grueling case over with. "I just hope we managed to help spare the city from having to read about someone the press were ready to call 'The Christmas Killer.'"

"Geez, were they really considering that?" Frost snorted.

Jane shrugged, taking a gulp of the beer Murray had just passed her way. "I heard that reporter chick—who was it, Kitty Collins?—talking about it if this guy kept going. Man, that woman's a real piece of work. Y'know, she's the one who thought it'd be so cute to quote Crowe on calling Dr. Isles 'the Queen of the Dead.'"

The men grunted their sympathies, and after a thoughtful silence, Frost said, "I wonder if the doc has any plans for the holidays. She got any family around here?"

"I don't think so," Jane said. "She said something about being adopted, and her parents are always traveling, or something."

"No siblings?"

"Uh…I dunno."

"Hope she's got someplace to go," Korsak said. He glanced downwards at the end of the bar, where sat an older gentleman who always came in alone, eyes glued constantly to the television. "Don't matter if you celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah or not—holidays are still a sad time to be alone."

Jane shrugged again, and Frankie laughed as he tapped the neck of his empty bottle. "I don't know about that, Korsak. Ever get Dr. Isles going on about logic and all that crap? She'd probably say it doesn't technically make any sense for a lonely person to be sadder around Christmas than during the rest of the year, because—I dunno, it's all put on you by third parties, so it isn't real. Or something."

_But lonely people are still lonely_, Jane thought to herself.

She thought of the cheerful little weirdo she had first met a couple months ago, who had tried buying Jane some lunch when she was still under the impression that Jane was a hooker. There was an example of someone embodying the true charitable Christmas spirit, and someone like that certainly didn't deserve to be alone for the holidays.

"We should've asked her to come out tonight," Jane realized, speaking her thoughts out loud. "She helped us make the case, really."

"Why didn't _you_ invite her?" Frost asked. "You're friends, right?"

"What, you think just 'cause we're the two women on the team, we'd automatically be best buds?"

"I didn't say 'best buds,'" Frost said patiently. "I just meant friends, like friendly. She seems nice. Maybe she needs somebody to make a first move."

"A first _move? _Frost, this is about asking someone to hang out. Not come on a date."

Frost just shrugged and downed some more beer, then glanced at Korsak. "Frankie's got a theory."

"Oh c'mon, man!" Frankie groaned, giving Frost's stool a kick.

"He thinks the doc has a crush on you."

"_Really_, Frankie? Come on!" Jane sighed, giving Frankie's stool a kick herself. "Maura's nice, and she's just …she's just a little awkward, okay? Whatever you're reading into her, you're misreading it. Maura's not the type of woman who'd—I mean, just forget it. It's not cute, it's not a joke. She doesn't have a crush on me. Cut it out."

Frankie raised an eyebrow at Frost, both of them thinking Jane had overreacted a little. "Consider it cut," Frankie said.

But the next day, Jane couldn't get the idea out of her head. In all honesty, she had been thinking of asking Maura what her holiday plans were before Frost had let slip about Frankie's "theory," and now she was sort of afraid to say anything. It had just been a harmless remark, and Frankie had probably only meant it as a private joke, but it would not leave Jane's head. How much did Frankie know, any way? He barely saw any of her interactions with Maura. Hell, she'd hardly had any to speak of at this point—she'd been so wrapped up in the case that there hadn't really been time for pleasantries.

And she did feel genuinely bad about that. Maura had never mentioned a boyfriend (or girlfriend), nearby family, or friends. It dawned on Jane that she really knew very little about the glamorous doctor except that she worked hard, dressed impeccably, and had a penchant for listening to classical music or operas while she did autopsies. Asking her about her holiday plans would be the polite, co-worker thing to do. It would be a sign of friendly good will, which Jane figured was never unwanted, so off she went to the morgue.

Yesterday she could have breezed in there no problem, but now she found herself holding back a little. Was this going to be awkward? Probably. _Suck it up, Rizzoli! _

She cleared her throat and knocked on the door to Maura's private office.

"Come in."

Once Jane had opened the door, she stuck both hands quickly in her pockets. Maura noticed the move, having long ago filed it away as one of Jane's nervous habits. The smile on her face was genuine as she stood up politely. "Good morning, detective!"

"Uh, hey, Maura," Jane got out, trying to remind her that there was no need to be formal.

Maura's grin seemed to widen at the reinstatement of casual greetings. "Jane. I never got the chance to congratulate you on your performance on the witness stand yesterday."

"You were there for that?" Jane asked. Maura had given her own testimony two days before, and Jane couldn't remember seeing her in the courtroom yesterday.

"Well, I couldn't make it to the actual trial, unfortunately," Maura explained. "There was a pressing case for me to address here—a suicide." Jane bit back the question of whether or not it was true that the number of suicides went up every year around Christmas. She was sure Maura would be able to tell her the answer, but it wasn't a particularly cheerful way to segue into a discussion of holiday plans. Maura continued, "Anyway, I still wanted to hear you formally articulate your testimony, so I watched the film of the procedure."

"Pretty exciting cinema, huh?"

"I found it quite thrilling, yes," Maura stated seriously.

Jane couldn't help smiling—it seemed Maura still had trouble detecting sarcasm, a trait Jane used to make fun of, but which was oddly endearing when it came to Dr. Isles. "Okay, but for real, though. What kinds of movies do you like, Maura?"

Maura frowned thoughtfully, wondering why that was a relevant question, and watching as Jane transferred her hands to her back pockets and took a small step forward. _She's trying to be casual. She's asked a question unrelated to the case or anyone else in BPD. _"I'm fond of Italian neorealism," she said hopefully.

"Neo…you lost me after 'Italian.'"

"Oh Jane, you really should familiarize yourself a bit more with the genre," Maura chided her lately. "Not only because of your heritage, but because the films themselves are so gorgeously done."

"Er…I've seen _Life is Beautiful_," Jane offered with a weak smile, naming the only Italian movie she could think of. "Does that count?"

It was evident by Maura's expression that it did not count, but the doctor was trying to think of a nice way to say so. "Not quite. While neorealism is a style that can still be emulated today, it is generally considered to be time-specific to the postwar period. Not dissimilar to American film noir, in that way!" Surely Jane had to be familiar with film noir, one of the most prevalent detective genres. But there was no glimmer of recognition in her face, and Maura felt herself starting to blush as she often did when she worried she was about to ramble about something nobody cared about. "I could recommend some titles, if you like—perhaps some directors…?"

"Sure," Jane said. "Yeah, that'd be cool, Maura."

"Really?"

"Yeah! I just thought you were all, y'know, science."

"_Au contraire! _I've been taught to venerate the arts as well, mostly by my mother. She's an artist."

"Really? I didn't know that! That's cool. What kind of art does she do?"

"It's…" Maura stopped herself, worrying that if she got into the complexities of the art world and its many sub-sects and which areas her mother's work fell into, she might never shut up. She sensed Jane got impatient enough when she went off on tangents while filling Jane in on the case, even if they were still somewhat related to the topic on hand. Shorter was probably better where Jane was concerned, especially off the job. "She tends to lean towards sculpture," Maura finally said.

"Sculpture! Cool," Jane said, wishing she could come up with something a little more intelligent. "I never really got much of an arts education, but I've seen stuff and museums, y'know. My family's more into sports, I guess. You like sports?"

_NO. No. Just… goodness, no_. But in an attempt to sound less like a snobby cyborg, Maura said, "I enjoy various aspects of certain sporting endeavors, yes." _Oh, goodness, why did I say that? She's smiling. Why is she smiling? Do I sound moronic? Or did I make it out to sound as though I'm more knowledgeable about sports than I really am, and she thinks she's found a kindred spirit? _"But… not the type you could ask any follow-up questions on."

"Noted," Jane chuckled. So Maura was a little weird, but it was in a cute way. "I know sports probably seem like a waste of time—"

"Oh no, they're quite—"

"—but it's how I waste my time, so…" Jane shrugged. "What're your plans for the holidays?"

Maura frowned again. It had probably been unrealistic to hope nobody at work would throw this question her way; it was conversation that was bound to come up along coworkers whether you were friends or not. It was just the polite thing to do, just like the polite response would be to quickly lie and say, "Oh, I'm spending it with family," or "my boyfriend and I are…" But Ian had been gone for so long, with no word about any intention to come back. And her parents were abroad and, with no interest in celebrating Christmas themselves, had not initiated any invitation for Maura to join them in December. How pathetic would Jane find the honest reply?

Ultimately Maura had no choice, as the silence was getting to be too long: "I haven't …quite… finalized any plans yet." _There! That's good. Just don't ask me any—_

"Too many parties to choose from, huh?" Jane laughed good-naturedly. _Should've figured a classy woman like that would have a lot of high-society functions to go to at this time of year_.

"A bit of the opposite, actually," Maura said after gritting her teeth. She squared her shoulders, trying to imitate one of Jane's more confident stances. Perhaps if she tried hard enough, she could sell the notion that she wasn't sad about this. Maybe Jane would believe she didn't care if she acted like she didn't care. Ignoring the look of surprise on Jane's face, Maura said, "I didn't have a religious upbringing, so my parents never saw the merit in turning mid-to-late-December into a large affair."

"Yeah, but…lots of people still celebrate, even as a secular holiday."

"The Isles don't."

"Oh," Jane said softly, understanding now. "_None_ of the Isles?"

"Sorry?"

"I mean, your parents didn't make a big deal out of it, but would you want to? I'm not saying you'd have to go to midnight mass or anything, but we always have a really nice Christmas dinner at my parents' house. They've got a tree, and we make wassail, and there's always a _ton _of food. Like, you wouldn't be putting us out or anything," she hastened to add, sensing that Maura was the type of person who might try squirming out of an invitation with such an excuse. Suddenly it was important to Jane not only that Maura have people to be with at this time at year, but that she, Jane, was one of those people.

Maura was clearly trying to repress a wide grin. "Are you…"

"Sure? Yeah! Definitely. And it's not like it's a strictly Rizzoli affair, either—a couple of neighbors always end up coming, but Korsak'll be there, too, 'cause he doesn't have any family around aside from all his ex-wives."

"I don't know," Maura said a little breathlessly. "I'm not …you know, it's a strange phenomenon," she nearly chuckled. "I am perfectly at ease speaking in front of a crowd, giving a lecture. But when it comes to smaller groups, particularly those where I'm a stranger—"

"Heck, you're not a stranger! You know me!" Jane said. "And you know Frankie, and Korsak, and trust me—anyone who talks to my mother for more than thirty seconds won't feel like a stranger for long. C'mon, Maura, it'll be fun. And if you _don't _have fun, you can always try some of my dad's 'special' eggnog, and get too drunk to realize you're bored."

Maura finally laughed at that, and the sound got Jane to smile. "Jane, I… if you really think your family wouldn't mind—"

"Are you kidding? It's Christmas!" Jane said loudly, slapping Maura on the back. "The more the merrier! I'm pretty sure Jesus actually says that at some point in the story."

"Isn't Jesus an infant in the Christmas story?"

"Right, yeah. Okay, so God said it then. Anyway, please don't worry about it, Maura. I'd really love it if you came."

"Then I'd love to come," Maura said, and she was so sincere that Jane could swear she felt her cynical detective's heart grow three times in size. "This is good! I've always thought it would behoove us, as co-workers, to spend more time together outside of work. It might help create a more seamless working environment."

"Well, Christmas is still a couple of weeks away," Jane said. "We could … do something before then, if you have time after work."

Jane was a little surprised at how swiftly Maura took the notion. In fact, she seemed downright excited. "Yes! Are you free on Sunday? You could help me pick out a host gift for your parents!"

"A what? Maura, don't be silly, you don't have to do that."

"Of course I do," Maura said, looking scandalized at the notion of doing anything else. "And if you came with me, you could help me choose a gift they would like. Please, Jane. It would make me feel even better about this if you'd let me."

Jane sighed affectionately. "Well then, far be it from me to be a Scrooge!"

"Excellent literary reference!" Maura gasped.

Deciding not to mention that she was familiar with the character not from Dickens' original novel but from his appearance in a Muppet movie, Jane nodded and said, "What's your address? I'll come by on Sunday to pick you up, and we can go…" She grinned and waved her hands in exaggerated excitement. "Christmas shopping!"

* * *

When Jane pulled up to Maura's house that weekend, she couldn't help whistling with awe. It was a gorgeous property, made all the lovelier by the white holiday lights Maura had strung along her windows. She noticed Maura's car was parked on the street, probably because her driveway had yet to be snow-blown or shoveled, and Jane nearly slipped on some ice near the porch. She rang the bell, and to her surprise, Maura answered the door almost immediately.

Maura always looked lovely on the job, even in scrubs, but there was something about her today which struck Jane as uniquely gorgeous. She had on a white turtleneck sweater and a crimson-colored skirt, both of which flattered her figure significantly better than scrubs. The gold color of her hair seemed to stand out more than usual, but Jane couldn't place why.

"Hello!" Maura said brightly. "Oh, dear—I'm embarrassed you have to see my driveway in such a state. The snow just looked so beautiful in its untouched form, I was wary of touching it! Also, I haven't quite had the time to see to it myself yet. I was thinking of asking a boy who lives down the street if I could pay him to shovel it for me sometime."

"Pay a kid? Don't be silly," Jane said. "I'll do it for you."

"What? Don't _you _be silly," Maura laughed. "Come in for a second; I just need to grab my coat and my purse." Once Jane had stepped inside, Maura shut the door against the cold. "I'm perfectly capable of shoveling the snow myself," she said, walking back to grab her coat. "It's just a matter of not finding the time, because of work. When I'm working, generally _you're _working, so asking you to shovel would be simply lazy of me."

"Nothin' wrong with taking someone up on a favor," Jane said with a shrug, looking around the house as Maura threw her coat on. "You have a really beautiful house, Maura. My apartment's basically decorated with pennants for schools I never went to… 'cause I like their sports teams, y'know. Cool sculpture," she said, nodding at a small piece of art on a nearby table.

"You like it?"

"Yeah! Did your mother do it?"

"Oh no, that's a Zoltan Kemeny. Very provocative, don't you think? I love its _audacity_."

"Yes, it's very…audacious," Jane said, trying and failing to see the sculpture as anything but a little hunk of metal.

Misinterpreting Jane's sarcasm as genuine interest, Maura asked brightly, "So you like modern art, then? I love it! I have a Hockney and a Kline—but not a Diebenkorn," she added mournfully, grabbing her purse. "So please don't ask me, 'where's the Diebenkorn?'"

"You stopped me just in time!" Jane chuckled. "So I guess all I'll ask is, where's the fire?"

"What?"

"Nothin', you just moved fast. Let's go!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Yay, Rizzles Christmas fluff! :) Thanks for all who have reviewed, favorited, and followed. Personally I think I got off to a slow start, so I like this chapter a bit better. That said, it's been fun playing around with how these two might have acted with each other when their friendship was just starting.

* * *

"Jane! Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

"Ma, c'mon!" Jane groaned, trying to balance the phone on her shoulder as she grilled a cheese sandwich.

"I still don't understand why you and Joey can't get along. He's a lovely young man!"

"He's a brass-kisser, and he messes with me all the time! Ma, please. I'm begging you not to invite him. Do you want your only daughter and oldest child to have a blue Christmas? Because she will if you insist on setting her up with somebody for the Christmas party for a third year in a row!" There was silence on the line for a moment, and Jane wondered if this conversation could have been better face-to-face. "Ma, you still there?"

"Of course. Jane…"

"Ma, just… I don't see why we have to keep having this conversation. I can find someone for myself."

"But you're no good at it!" Angela pouted.

"Hey!"

"It's true!"

"I'll have you know I invited someone to this party already!" _Oh, crap._

Angela's tone brightened on the line immediately. "What?! You did? Who? Do I know his mother? Is he Italian?"

"No, Ma—"

"Can he bake? Do you think he'd bring something? Oh, but we probably shouldn't put pressure on him to do—"

"MA!" Jane practically yelled. Unbelievable: she was over thirty years old and still had to shout to make her mother hear her. "It's not a guy! It's the new M.E. from work," she quickly explained before Angela could ask anything like _"what do you mean it's not a guy?" _"So… she's only been back in Boston for a bit, and she doesn't have a lot of friends and—I dunno, I sort of get the feeling that she has social anxiety. She had _no _plans for Christmas."

"Is she Jewish?"

"What? No."

"Does she have family nearby?"

"No, and they didn't invite her to spend the holiday with them. She's really sweet, Ma, and I felt bad about her not having any place to go. You'll really like her. But—I mean, that's the thing."

"What is?"

"The…I don't want her to feel like I invited her, and then I ditched her for a guy, you know?"

"Jane, you two aren't in junior high. I'm sure she'd be fine if there happened to be a man there who was possibly interested in you. I could even see if maybe I could invite someone for her!"

"Oh my _God_, Ma, no—"

"I could see if the Gilberti's are in town; maybe Giovanni—"

"Ma! For the love of baby Jesus and all else that is holy, please stop!" Jane cried. "Can't we just have a family party for once that's about, I dunno, just the _family_, and friendship, and all that holiday crap? Where I don't have to be focused on wearing the perfect damn dress and saying the right thing and having my hair perfect and just be comfortable? Can't we please do that for once, Ma, _please?_"

It took a while for Angela to answer. Much though she was sure it would surprise Jane to hear it, she was also tired of having these arguments like Jane was still an eighth grader who had to be forced to attend her school dance. There was no question that her stubbornness had been inherited from her mother, a fact that took Angela a surprisingly long time to realize.

"I think… I think it was very nice of you to invite your lonely co-worker," Angela finally said. "And if you _really _think she would be more comfortable without having Joey or someone there fawning over you and taking all of your attention, I can respect that."

"Thank you," Jane said quietly.

"…but could you at least _ask _her, just to make sure?"

Jane sighed heavily, and only then did she notice she had burned her grilled cheese. "Dammit, fine," she muttered. "I'll ask her and I'll talk to you later, Ma."

Hissing in frustration, Jane threw the phone down and stared at her ruined late-night snack. She grabbed the sandwich out of the pan, threw out the burnt piece of bread, and hastily folded the remaining half. It scalded her mouth, but she didn't care; she was still too steamed about her mother's latest attempt to shoehorn in a date for her. The worst part was that she always thought maybe this year, Angela would forget. Maybe this year, she'd finally let it go. But that was naïve: Angela would be bugging her about finding a man and having kids until that first baby announcement was mailed out.

Jane's excuse had always been that she was perfectly capable of finding a man, which was true when she felt like making it so.

The problem was, she didn't _want _to find a man.

In her defense, it was a realization she had only come to very recently, and it had only been confirmed earlier that day when she had been shopping with Maura. They had spent over an hour searching for a perfect bottle of wine for Maura to bring as a hostess gift. Normally shopping for such a thing didn't take all that much time, but Maura kept asking specific questions about Jane's parents' taste, and their background, and that led to stories about Jane's childhood and other Rizzoli staple family anecdotes. They had then gone from the pretentiously named _Le Wine Shop _to a seasonal Christmas store, where Maura had enlisted Jane's assistance in picking out some holiday décor. The lights on her windows had been a good start, but she wanted to feel the same glow inside her house that she did whenever she drove up and saw the outside.

All in all, the outing had been more fun than any date Jane could remember going on since high school. Hours had passed by like minutes, and Jane had found herself ultimately leaving because it just seemed like the polite, proper time to extricate herself—not because she had really wanted to go.

How could it have taken her so long to notice how wonderful Maura Isles was?

There had been that initial, unsettling period: here was a woman with more degrees than Jane's family combined. It had seemed at first that Maura approached everything clinically, like there was no sympathy for the victims who ended up on her table, but Jane now wondered if that was just because the doctor was so reserved. She was literal, but that didn't mean she was cold. Jane had been so wrapped up in this case, desperate to prove herself on her first job as a detective, that she hadn't been as open to noticing the potential there was for Maura to be a friend.

That potential was glaringly obvious now, almost as obvious as the fact that Dr. Isles needed it also. _Hell, maybe if there's any merit to Frankie's theory, we could be more than friends …or I could try not getting ahead of myself. _

She tried turning on the TV, but didn't feel like just sitting there. After a few moments, she flipped it back off, grabbed her coat and a pair of snow boots, and headed outside. The drive to her parents' house was short, and from down their block she could see that the lights were off—maybe Angela had gone to bed in frustration right after their conversation (it was just past eleven o'clock). Still, Jane dimmed her car lights prematurely as she drove up, then crunched across the snow in the yard over to the garage. The key was above the door, like always, and she quickly grasped it to gain access to the shovel that was leaning against the inside wall of the garage. Frank refused to buckle down and get a snow blower, preferring what he thought to be the more manly and traditional approach to dealing with disagreeable weather.

Jane locked the door again, replaced the key, and headed back to her car with the shovel over her shoulder. She did not want to give herself time to wonder about whether or not she was taking a sensible course of action: it was as if her car was on auto-pilot, taking her back to Maura's house. Her fingers drummed restlessly against the steering wheel as she drove, and she smiled to herself as she recalled a conversation that she'd had with Maura that afternoon:

"_Jane, I have to say I'm really quite impressed with your driving!"_

_ "Because I'm a woman?" Jane had deadpanned. _

_ "No!" Maura had laughed, and Jane had grinned at the sound, wondering if she'd ever heard it down in the morgue before. If so, Jane had certainly never appreciated it. "Because of the snow! I myself am an excellent driver, but I tend to get anxious when the road's a little slippery."_

_ "Ah. Well, you know not to use chains, right?"_

_ "Oh, absolutely. They do such aesthetic damage to the roads!"_

_ "Right, and wear them down," Jane had chuckled. "You should look into snow tires if you haven't already, though. I bet they'll come in dead useful."_

_ "Dead? Hopefully not…"_

The heater in Jane's car didn't work very well, but the memory from earlier that day felt as though it was bringing the chill down a little. At the next red light, she pulled on some gloves that had been left on the dashboard, which were cold but better than nothing. She figured she'd heat them up in no time. It probably would have been smart to bring along some earmuffs, but now she had reached Maura's house, and wasn't really interested in driving all the way back to her apartment.

She had to smile at how beautiful the white lights looked reflected in the snow. It really did look like a Christmas card, especially as the rest of the house appeared to be dark. As quietly as she could, Jane pulled the shovel out of the back seat and got out of the car.

Quickly she realized the snow had been sitting in the driveway for much too long: it was hard and heavy, and there was a ton of it. But, she set dutifully to her intended task, biting cold be damned. Although it was a little out of her way, she dumped the snow into the pile between Maura's house and her neighbor's, not wanting to disrupt the pristine beauty of Maura's snowy front yard. When the most exercise she got at work was the occasional chasing-down of a perp, it felt good to be doing something this active, this repetitive. Even as she lost the feeling in her ears and her lips, she could feel her blood pumping and there was something to be said for that.

She hadn't gotten through quite a third of the driveway when she heard Maura's front door open behind her, and she froze. Should she keep going, and pretend she hadn't heard anything? Let Maura say something first? While she had planned on just doing this for Maura and never saying a thing about it, Jane had to admit she'd been hoping Maura might catch her in the act.

"Jane?"

At the sound of her name, Jane turned around and pretended to look surprised, as if wondering what Maura might be doing on her own front porch. "Hey! Uh… sorry, did I wake you up?"

"No," Maura said, her arms folded tightly against the cold. "I was awake already."

"Oh. I didn't see any lights on." _Um, hello. Way to sound like a creeper. _

"Well, I had the fire going," Maura explained. "I just got off the phone, and when I stood up, I came over to close the curtain and saw you in the driveway." She rubbed her arms, and looked as if she was trying to smile. "What are you doing out here so late?"

Jane shrugged, gesturing to all the snow. "Shoveling your driveway."

"But why?"

"I didn't think you should leave it. And I wanted to help."

"You don't have to do that," Maura said.

"I know," Jane said lightly.

And there was something about the way that Jane had said those two words which went straight to Maura's heart. Shoveling the driveway wasn't just a favor, it wasn't even just an act of goodwill. It was something a friend would do, without being asked and without expecting anything in return. Jane had propped the shovel up and was leaning one elbow casually on top of it as she talked to Maura, her tone and her stance tacitly conveying that nothing Maura said would talk her out of her stopping before she was done. Maura sighed, and Jane smiled at the visible, billowing breath.

"Will you let me help you?" Maura asked.

"Sure thing."

"I'll get my coat and be right out."

Apparently by getting her coat, Maura had also meant getting a hat, scarf, gloves, snow pants, earmuffs, and—if Jane wasn't mistaken—some mascara. Maura's first plan had been to get out her snow-blower, but she figured if she used it that she wouldn't be able to make small talk with Jane as they worked. And for once, Maura didn't want to avoid small talk. (The fact that it was so late at night and a loud snow blower might wake some people up did not even occur to her.) It was nearly ten minutes before she deemed herself properly ready to meet the cold, but Jane didn't seem perturbed when she finally emerged with a small shovel in hand.

"So! Pretty late for a phone call," Jane said conversationally, even though she knew she was definitely prying. "Was it family? I know the time change in Europe's a doozy, so maybe it's earlier there?" _Prying. So, so prying!_

But Maura didn't seem to mind as she absently began scooping up the snow. "Actually, it was an old friend. An ex."

"Ah. Well…okay then."

"Do you know the Fairfields?"

Jane laughed shortly. "Is the Pope Catholic?"

"Yes…oh!" Maura laughed, when she got the answer. "Yes, well, Garrett and I used to date." Jane whistled, and she said, "I know. We went to BCU together, and we were quite serious for a while. But we ended things eventually, just because …well, I suppose we saw our lives going in different ways despite how similar we seemed to be. Any way, he's been living in Milan but came back to town for the holidays, and asked if I was doing anything for Christmas. They always have extravagant parties, the Fairfields."

"Oh…"

Here it came, the brush-off: any party threw by a family like the Fairfields would have to be irresistible to someone as classy as Maura Isles.

"He was quite disappointed when I told him I already plans."

"You—you did?" Jane asked.

Maura stopped shoveling for a moment, looking incredulously at Jane. "Of course! You invited me first. And to be honest, I would much rather attend your family's gathering than Garrett's."

"Really?" _Wow! Wait till Ma hears that she bested the Fairfields!_

"Certainly. Affairs like those have their place, but they can be so stuffy and so over-the-top. I think a Christmas party _ought _to be more subdued. Don't you think so?"

"I think…I think I'm just glad you feel that way," Jane chuckled, turning away to shovel now. Suddenly she didn't feel as cold anymore.

They shoveled in silence for a minute or two, Jane making considerably more progress than Maura. She decided not to comment on this fact, even though it seemed Maura was struggling with the snow simply from lack of experience. Jane figured that despite owning the proper tools, Maura was probably accustomed to other people doing this task for her.

"What's that song you're whistling?" Maura asked.

"Hm? Oh, it's just a Christmas song."

"Which one?"

"Uh…_Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer_."

It was worth having been caught whistling just to hear the shocked gasp that the title had elicited. "How macabre!"

"No, it's funny, I swear!"

"Goodness, Jane, you worry me sometimes…"

"And so do you," Jane countered. "Don't be so delicate with the snow, Maura; it'll take you forever to clear the driveway!" She stuck her shovel down again, and tromped over to Maura, adding her grip to the woman's shovel. "Push in _hard_, like this," she grunted, aiding Maura in the proper technique. "And lift with your knees, not your back."

"Right, that part I knew," Maura said.

"Of course you did, Dr. Isles."

With their newly combined efforts, it only took about five more minutes to finish the driveway. "Well there ya go," Jane said, rubbing her hands together.

"Thank you so much," Maura said warmly, sincerely. "It'll be nice to be able to park my car in its place again!"

"And all it took were a few frost-bitten fingers," Jane teased her.

"Have you already diagnosed yourself with frostbite?" Maura asked, looking concerned.

"Maura, it was just a joke, I'll be fine. I _am _fine."

"Come inside," Maura invited her. "I've still got the fire on, and we could make some hot chocolate—I even went out and bought some new mugs after you left today, so I could have some for cocoa and some for coffee."

Hands clasped together and hopeful grin spread from ear to ear, Maura looked way too excited for Jane to even possibly consider turning her down. "Okay, eager McBeaver," she chuckled. "Let's do it."

Maura led the way back into the garage, where they lay their shovels near the door and Maura started to unravel her many layers of wet clothing. Where Jane might have just tossed her own things onto the floor, Maura had an expensive-looking hamper by the wall into which she placed her carefully folded jacket and snow pants. This left her in a pair of jeans and a gray turtleneck sweater as she next removed ostrich-feather earmuffs and a Burberry scarf. She sat down to carefully unbuckle her boots, and Jane kicked off her own next to the mat where Maura eventually placed hers.

After the ceremonial ritual of clothing-removal, Jane shouldn't have been surprised to learn that Maura Isles wouldn't have been satisfied with simply heating up some water and pouring a pre-packaged mix into it for cocoa.

"Not into Swiss Miss, huh?" Jane asked, as Maura pulled a rather fancy-looking instrument out of one of her cupboards.

"Have you ever looked at the Nutrition Facts on those things?" Maura asked. "I'd rather be forced to drink instant coffee." Which Jane doubted, as Maura had just shivered at the very mention of such a thing. "This is a frother I purchased today, and I've been waiting for an opportunity to use it!"

"Well froth away," Jane chuckled.

As Maura went about measuring cocoa powder, she couldn't help noticing that Jane was still rubbing her arms and shivering a little. "Jane, you really ought to get out of those sweatpants. They're soaked with snow, and they'll freeze you right down to the bone."

"Thanks, but I'll be okay. Promise."

"Are you sure? I could lend you some flannel pajama's, if you like."

"That's okay, really," Jane said insisted, not wanting to be an intrusive guest. She had peeled off her wet socks already and stuck them in her boots, and she really was rather cold. "I'll just roll 'em up, and I'll be fine."

"Well…you don't need to chaperone me in my own kitchen, Jane. If you like, you can settle in front of the fireplace over there. Take one of the blankets off the couch, they're quite soft."

Jane was not too proud to accept this invitation, and as the kitchen was still within hearing distance of the fireplace, she didn't feel guilty about leaving, either. "So would it be a longshot for me to ask if you've ever made a gingerbread house?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact, I have! That is one of the few holiday crafts I remember doing as a child. One of the girls at my boarding school threw a huge Christmas party when I was eleven, and her parents made her invite everybody in the class. That's the only reason I was invited."

"Aw, c'mon, Maura!"

"No, I'm sure it is," Maura said, sounding matter-of-fact and not as though she was looking for sympathy.

"I thought you said you never jump to conclusions."

"I don't. I thanked her for inviting me, and she told me to my face that she wouldn't have if her parents had made her invite everybody."

Jane, already sitting on the couch with a blanket laid over her lap, looked forlornly over at Maura. The image of a grateful, lonely child finally getting an invitation to a party, only to be told something like that? It was as heartbreaking as someone kicking a puppy.

"Maura…"

"Oh, I was fine," Maura said, turning on the frother. "I mean, I admit I did cry about it at the time, but I went to the party anyway. I was determined to try and make friends, and even if my presence there only rewarded me with about… five less children calling me 'Maura the bore-a,' at least I _did _learn how to make a gingerbread house!"

The remark would have been sarcastic if someone like Jane had made it, but she recognized Maura's sincerity. "Geez, Maura. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I was a weird kid."

"Well, I was a fat kid."

"_You?_"

"Yes, believe it or not," Jane chuckled. "There was this douchebag who used to follow me around and say 'Roly-Poly Rizzoli likes cannoli.' And I did like cannoli," she said thoughtfully. "But I didn't think I was overweight. Anyway, I just decided to channel everything into sports, so… that way, I guess all my fat turned to muscle or whatever, and there you are."

Although the process was a tad more complicated than that, Maura decided to let it drop. "Well, you certainly could have fooled me. I'd never have guessed you were once overweight."

"That's because _you _don't ever guess anything," Jane said with a smile, and Maura laughed in response. "Hm… yeah. That was the same guy who called me Frog-Face, actually."

Maura laughed sympathetically as she brought over the cocoa, sitting herself down on the couch next to Jane. "If it's any reassurance, _I _don't think you have a Frog-face."

"Thank you," Jane said with faux regality, accepting her mug from Maura.

"As a matter of fact, I was thinking how much the structure of your face reminded me of the classical Roman ideal," Maura said, and the progress of Jane's mug to her lips halted instantly. "You don't seem like one of those women who is aware of how beautiful she is. Or handsome, if you prefer."

"Uh…"

"Your features are exquisite," Maura said softly, as if this were fact and not an opinion.

"Thank you," Jane said quickly before taking an unwisely large gulp of hot cocoa. She groaned loudly when the heated liquid scalded her tongue and the roof of her mouth, and she brought the mug away quickly, replacing it with her fingers on her lips as if that might somehow help. "Damn, that's hot!"

"I'm sorry, should I have warned you that the hot cocoa was going to be hot?" Maura asked, honestly curious.

Hearing it worded that way got Jane to smile through her pain. "Nah, sorry, I just wasn't thinking."

She watched as Maura cupped her mug with both hands, blowing gently on the drink inside. Her lips looked a little more plump than usual, perhaps from the cold, and Jane could not bring herself to look away. Maura sighed in satisfaction once she had brought the drink to her lips and swallowed some of the cocoa, feeling herself relax as it went down her throat. "Well," she sighed, "if I may say so, that really is delicious!"

"I guess you may say so, then," Jane said. "You still cold? I don't mean to be hogging the blanket over here…"

Maura was grateful that while she couldn't lie, she _was _learning how to shut up as opposed to blurting things out all the time. A while ago, even last week, she might have responded to Jane's offer by saying that there was another blanket behind the couch which Jane clearly hadn't seen. But now instead, she simply grinned and took the part of the blanket that Jane was holding out to her.

Their ice-cold feet touched beneath, and though they both jumped, neither pulled away. Somehow it felt good to be touching someone else's skin, even if it was cold, also. Jane was reminded of all the times she had come running in from the snow as a kid, freezing cold, and wanting nothing more than to jump into a hot bath. But her mother had always told her it would kill the cold faster if she put her feet in cold water, not hot water. It had never made sense to Jane, and she doubted it every year, but every year it worked. Maybe the same principle applied here.

"Wow," Jane whispered a few moments later after braving the cocoa again. "That _is _good."

"It is if you don't rush and gulp it down all at once," Maura teased her back.

Jane rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Yeah, yeah. Any other helpful tips?"

Maura's foot unconsciously moved up a little higher on Jane's. "Sure. Sip it slowly."

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, I may have to put on a couple more chapters than I originally intended...there are just so many cute things to do at Christmas! Reviews are appreciated :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: I have no idea what I'm doing.

* * *

Jane woke up with a stiff neck, and she groaned, rubbing the spot before opening her eyes. It took her a moment to realize where she was, and it took restraint not to jump up in surprise. This was Maura Isles' living room, Jane was lying on her couch, and Maura was lying on it also. They had sprawled out so that they were resting on opposite arms of the sofa, but they were still sharing the same blanket and their shins still lay close together.

She didn't have time to process anything before she realized her phone was buzzing, and she struggled to quickly pull it out of her pocket without disturbing Maura, but she was twisted in the blanket and that made extricating her phone difficult. A moment later, another phone went off, and Maura jerked and sat up, her hair a disheveled mess. Still, Jane couldn't help glancing at her and thinking how unfair it seemed that anyone could wake up and look so good. Photo-shoot ready, if you will.

"Morning," she said gruffly, moving a little easier now that Maura was awake.

"What?" Maura yawned, stretching and reaching for her phone, which was set on the table by the sofa.

Jane finally got her phone. "Rizzoli."

Maura flipped hers open. "Isles."

Maura missed the little smile that flitted across Jane's face when she heard their names spoken together like that. "Mm-hm. I got it, yeah. Sorry. _Yes. _Okay. I'll be right there."

"On my way."

Their calls ended around the same time, and Jane said, "You got a case?"

"Have you?"

"No," Jane sighed, sticking her phone back in her pocket and stretching out a bit. "That was just my Ma, as a matter of fact. Today's my day off, and I promised to be there early to help put up some lights on their house." She yawned. "Also, I kinda borrowed their shovel, and they kinda need it."

"I see," Maura chuckled. "This is supposed to be my day off, too, but the DNA results have finally come in for Moore's last victim and I've been asked to sign off on them." She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck, which felt incredibly stiff. "I'm so glad you caught him, Jane. You're helping to bring closure to a lot of families at an important time of year for them."

"Thanks," Jane muttered. "You helped, too." She blinked hard, trying to wake herself up. "Um… so… are we going to talk about the fact that we both fell asleep on your couch?"

"We can," Maura said, shrugging. "Although I'm not surprised it happened."

"You're not?"

"No. It was quite late when we came inside, and we—well, you in particular—had just exerted a fair amount of energy shoveling the driveway. Combine that inevitable resultant fatigue with a warm drink, a warm fire, and warm company, and there you are."

"How does your brain work so well when you've just woken up?" Jane groaned, rolling her shoulders.

Slightly baffled by the question, Maura said, "Just as it does during any other time of the day. Approximately one hundred billion neurons work in tandem to—"

"Not what I meant, Maura," Jane groggily cut her off, rubbing her eyes.

"Hm. You aren't what is colloquially referred to as 'a morning person,' are you, Jane?"

"Nice detective work, Mau—GAH! What is _that?!_"

Maura turned to look where Jane was rudely pointing, and noticed her tortoise for the first time that morning. "Sh, you'll scare him," she lightly scolded Jane, slapping her hand back down.

"_He's _alive?"

"His name is Bass," Maura said, looking affectionately at her pet. "_Geochelone sulcata_, an African spurred tortoise. I've had him since he was like this big," she added, holding her thumb and index finger only a couple inches apart. With a happy sigh, she pushed herself up off the sofa and walked towards the kitchen. "He's partial to British strawberries," she explained, opening her fridge to get to some.

"Bass, hm?" Jane asked, rubbing the back of her neck. "After—what, an old boyfriend?"

"William Bass," Maura answered, walking back with a strawberry. "The forensic anthropologist who founded the famous Body Farm."

"Right, _that_ Bass," Jane mumbled, watching as Maura held the strawberry in front of the tortoise. She had to admit that as strange as it seemed initially, there was something oddly endearing about seeing this classy woman stoop down to feed an enormous reptile. Still, she couldn't pass the opportunity to tease, "Yeah, that's a great pet. Very interactive."

Once Bass had taken the strawberry, Maura turned to face Jane, scowling lightly. "I think I've finally learned how to detect your sarcasm," she said. "And you'd be surprised, Jane, by how companionable tortoises can be! Do you have any pets?"

"Nope, but Korsak's crazy about animals, and he's always taking some in. I figure it's only a matter of time before he foists some mutt on me! Personally I've just never had the time to look for one, and I feel like I'd never have the time to watch for one, either."

"That's why Bass is such an excellent fit! He doesn't require too much attention, and he certainly eats less than a dog would, so that would save money."

"Y'know what else would save money? If I could kick my caffeine addiction," Jane mumbled, finally getting to her feet. "I think I'd better get going, and maybe drop by a Starbucks before I go to my parents' house."

"Oh, I have coffee!" Maura said anxiously, as Jane tried to remember where she'd put her shoes.

"You make it yourself, don't you?" Jane guessed.

"Of course," Maura said, looking scandalized at the thought of instant coffee. "I've got a delicious blend, Jane, please—let me make some for you? I'll be—oh, well… perhaps I shouldn't take the time. I really ought to get in to the office to take care of that one thing."

"Right. The sooner you get there, the sooner you can leave."

"That's true," Maura mused slowly, though it was clear by her expression that she didn't recognize why Jane would have brought that up.

Jane chuckled. "Uh… maybe when you get off, um… unless you've got plans, you could drop by and meet my parents. That way, you wouldn't just be getting to know them at the Christmas party."

"Really?"

"Sure! We'll get you educated proper in the ways of pre-Christmas cheer. But no pressure."

Although she was already thrilled at the prospect of spending more time with Jane outside of work, Maura did not want to appear too eager—a tactic she recognized as one she had used in the past when she'd been asked out on a date by somebody she liked. "That _does _sound like it would be nice, Jane. Why don't I text you when I've finished up at the office, and we can take it from there? See if I'm up for it."

"Great, sure, yeah," Jane said. "Call or text, whatever." For some reason, she wasn't worried about Maura really turning down her offer: somewhere in that practiced politeness, Maura managed to send the message that she would definitely be there. "Um… I guess I'll see you later, then, Dr. Isles!"

"Jane, are you sure there isn't anything I can get you before you leave?" Maura asked, just as Jane's hand had landed on the garage doorknob which would lead to her boots. "I feel bad for—"

"Kicking me out of bed?" Jane teased her, and she was surprised to see Maura was actually blushing. "Don't, um… I mean, this was kinda weird, right?" What had seemed like a perfectly normal, friendly act of goodwill—shoveling the driveway of a new friend in the romantic glow of Christmas lights in the dark—felt a little strange in the glaring brightness of the morning after. "Really, Maura, don't feel bad. _I'm_ the weirdo who came over in the middle of the night to shovel your driveway, then fell asleep on your couch! So unless you were trying to like, subtly seduce me or something…"

"Trust me Jane, if I ever tried to seduce you, it wouldn't be subtle," Maura said before she could stop herself. Jane's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Maura grasped the kitchen island to keep herself from turning her back to Jane in embarrassment. "I mean, I'm… not generally a subtle person, s-so…"

"Okay then!" Jane laughed. "Well, um… right." She felt bad for teasing Maura again, and in an attempt to lighten Maura's share of the awkwardness, said, "Well, for the record—I'm sort of a klutz when it comes to romance, so I'd probably _try _to be subtle about seducing y—seducing someone, but it'd probably be really obvious what I was trying to do."

While Maura had not felt so emotionally confused since about two minutes ago, Jane hadn't felt this dorky since high school. After a hurried (and slightly uncomfortable) goodbye, she couldn't help brooding about the word vomit which had just escaped her the whole time she drove to her parents' house. Why hadn't she just gone ahead and asked Maura out like a normal person?_ Maybe because I'm still not sure if this is something I can or want to do, _she told herself. _I mean, Maura's a woman. I'm a woman. What if I'm just projecting, and interpreting everything she does and says the way I do because Frankie thought it'd be funny to say he thought she was into me? Does she even __want__ me to ask her out? What if I make an ass out of myself?_

Whether or not Frankie had been right, Jane briefly had to tell herself she ought to apologize to him for rolling her eyes every time he would complain about how hard it was to summon the courage to ask a girl out. It was a lot harder than saying yes or no.

_And I fell asleep on her couch. What the heck? I don't even remember that happening. And one of us had to have fallen asleep first, and it must have been me. So she must have seen me nodding off, and instead of kicking me out or going to bed herself, she just stayed there! Who does that? Does she like me, or is she really just that… odd? Is it odd? Am I making way too big a deal out of this? Girls have sleepovers, right? …sure, when they're thirteen. Argh. _

With all this inner debate going on, her parents were a welcome distraction for once. Jane honked once she'd pulled up, then grabbed the shovel off the passenger seat. Her mother was instantly outside, and Jane suddenly found herself wondering if she really _did _prefer a dialogue with her at the moment to time that could've been spent thinking about the night she'd spent with Maura. She had a feeling the two were about to merge, given the curious look on Angela's face.

"So you borrowed our shovel?" she asked.

"Good morning to you, too, Ma," Jane said, tossing the shovel at her father, who had just walked out also.

"Doesn't the management at your complex take care of the upkeep like that?" Angela persisted, as Frank kissed Jane on the cheek and immediately got to work.

"Yeah, they usually do," Jane said. "I was borrowing it for a friend."

"A friend? Who?"

"I have friends, Ma!"

"Do I know this friend?"

"Not personally, no—it was Maura Isles, the new medical examiner. She hadn't gotten the time to do her driveway yet, so I—"

"Doesn't she have her own shovel?"

"Yeah, but—"

"And why didn't you come to the door?"

Frank cut in from the driveway: "For God's sakes, Ange, let her get a word in edgewise!"

"Thanks, Pop," Jane said. "Ma, look. I was just trying to do something nice for somebody, okay? I borrowed your shovel, and went over there so she wouldn't have to worry about it anymore."

Angela's tone changed. "Oh! What a nice thing to do, Jane. I'm sure she appreciated that." She tried to pull Jane into a hug, but Jane predictably ducked, and Angela settled for ruffling her hair instead. "That's getting into the Christmas spirit!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah… where are the second-landing lights?"

This was the third year in a row that Angela had stopped letting her husband hang the lights outside their second-story windows. He had stumbled once, and although he'd managed to stop himself from falling by jamming one foot in the gutter, he'd broken said foot and Angela vowed never to let him try again. He hated the implication that he was getting old, but the first time he'd really argued about the lights with Angela, Frankie had just gone up while they were fighting and strung them himself. Frank conceded that his son moved faster, so he allowed him to do it the next year, and this time around Jane was giving it a shot.

She wasn't quite as quick as Frankie, and she nearly fell when she was climbing back down the ladder and felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Pulling off her glove with her teeth, Jane stopped on the ladder, pulled out her phone and flipped it open. Angela's eyes narrowed in maternal suspicious when she saw a grin unfold on Jane's face as she read her text. _I haven't seen her smile that sincerely in ages…_

The text was from Maura, and if only Jane had had some small idea of how much Maura had agonized over getting the wording right. She had even considered actually calling, but nerves had gotten the best of her, and she preferred to be able to send out a message that had been proof-read for awkwardness and concisely edited: _Hello, Jane! I've already finished up here. Is this still an opportune time to meet your parents?_

Jane immediately texted back with an address and "absolutely."

"That's a pretty big smile you've got there, Jane," Angela remarked once Jane had gotten back down to the ground.

"What? No it's not," Jane said, though she was unable to fight off the grin.

"Were you texting Joey Grant?"

And there went the grin. "What? Ew, no! Why would you even guess that?"

"I just thought he might have tried getting in touch with you, that's all," Jane said.

"No, it was Maura. Dr. Isles. This is her day off, too, and I told her she should come by to meet you guys." Her phone buzzed again, and Jane whipped it out, reading Maura's reply: _I should be there in approximately ten minutes! _

Approximately ten minutes later, Jane had been coaxed into finishing off the driveway for her exhausted father, and Maura was smiling to herself as she drove up to the sight. "You just can't get a break, can you?" she said by way of greeting, getting out of her car.

Jane grinned, tossing away her last load of snow. "Guess not!"

She tried quickly to think of something else to say, but she was finding herself incredibly distracted by Maura's appearance: she had obviously changed her clothes since Jane had left her house, and skinny grey pants were tucked into a tall pair of black, menacingly-heeled boots that Jane could only hope Maura would be safe with on the icy sidewalks. A long, dark green coat was buttoned up to her neck, fitted perfectly to her form and looking incredibly cozy. But what jumped out at Jane the most as distractingly lovely was the black eyeliner Maura had put on—surely something she had never done before, because her eyes had never really popped like they were now, they looked so bright…

One heads-up whistle later, and Jane didn't need to speak, she just needed to act. Before Maura could quite get a grasp on what was happening, Jane had shoved her up against Frank's car, hands on either side of Maura's head, body pressed flush against her. A second later, there was a loud "thud," Jane winced, and Maura realized that Jane had just saved her four-hundred-dollar coat from a snowball.

"Ow," Jane said through her teeth in a high-pitched voice. "I think that one had some ice in it."

"Jane," Maura said, at a loss to know what to say.

The culprit was, as Jane had suspected, the neighbor's young son. She heard Frank loudly telling him off, something she could have done herself if she had been looking for an excuse to get out of Maura's personal space.

"I never would have expected you to be so gallant off the job," Maura said with a slow smile.

"Er—yeah, well… heh," was all Jane could manage.

She looked over the car to see the boy sticking his tongue out at Frank. Then, before running inside, he yelled to Jane, "Your friend's hood makes her look like an _Eskimo_!" as if this was the most insulting thing he could think to say.

"That boy needs a good lesson on multicultural appreciation," Maura observed. "And my hood isn't even up!"

"Don't pay him any attention," Jane said, stepping away from Maura. "Just a little punk. Anyway, um, here's the folks!" She waved over her parents, who approached them curiously. "Ma, Pop, this is Dr. Maura Isles, our medical examiner. Maura, this is my mother Angela, and my dad Frank."

"Maura, nice to meet you," said Frank, shaking her hand. "I hear you'll be joining us for Christmas this year."

"If that's all right," Maura hurriedly said.

"It's more than all right!" Angela assured her. "We're always glad to have people for the holiday, especially poor souls who have no place else to go!"

Jane cleared her throat loudly, and hoped that Maura didn't let the thoughtless comment get to her. "As a matter of fact, Ma, Maura's actually been invited to a party at the Fairfield's—" (which prompted a loud gasp from Angela, and raised eyebrows from Frank) "—but being the _polite_ person that she is, she's going to come to our party anyway, as she accepted my invitation first."

"Well, we'd better step up our game, hadn't we, Angela?" Frank asked.

"We certainly will!"

"Oh, don't do anything extreme on my account," Maura said anxiously. "I think it's wonderful enough that you open your home to family and your family's friends and co-workers, in an informal manner. That seems more indicative of what you might call the true meaning of Christmas than something artificial and for show that the Fairfields would arrange."

"Are you religious, Dr. Isles?" Angela asked.

"Um…well, not particularly, no," Maura said, hoping not to offend. "But when I was a girl and my parents would be at various holiday parties, I would look through some of my mother's books on art, and read the Christmas story that way, visually—you know, through the works of the old masters. Francesco, Giotto…"

"Oh, of course!" Angela laughed, though Jane was sure her mother had never heard of those artists. "That's a wonderful way to celebrate the holiday!"

"It always worked for me," Maura said. "I love how you've decorated your house, by the way! It's lovely, and it has a personal touch. My parents always hired professional help, so I never really got to enjoy the process."

"Enjoy?" Jane snorted. "It's a pain!"

Angela slapped her shoulder. "Don't say things like that! You know, Maura, you ought to help Jane spruce up her apartment a little bit! She never gets into the decorating spirit; she's such a Grinch that way! Maybe you could help her out a little?"

"What? Ma, don't—Maura, don't listen t—"

"Oh, I'd love to do that!" Maura said, clasping her hands together excitedly.

"Wonderful!" Angela said. "Jane, come with me to the garage, and I'll give you our box of extra decorations." She gave Jane's arm a tug which essentially said her daughter had no say in the matter, and so Jane huffingly followed her to the garage. It didn't even occur to her to be sorry that Maura had been left to chat with her non-chatty father, and she was definitely distracted once she and her mother had reached their destination and Angela casually asked, "How long have you been seeing that woman?"

Jane gaped at her, quickly glancing back at Maura to make sure she hadn't overheard the comment. "_Ma!_ What're you talking about, we're not seeing each other!"

Angela rolled her eyes and opened the door to the garage. "You must think I was born yesterday!"

"Ma, nothing is going on between us! Hell, I hardly know her at this point!"

"At this point? So you're hoping to get to know her better?"

"Well yeah, obviously! We work together, so… it'd be good to know her better!" Jane said, arms folded defensively. This was an area of her life she had never liked discussing with her mother in the first place, and the fact that her newly-growing crush was a woman made it all the more uncomfortable.

"She seems very classy," Angela said, picking up a box of decorations and thrusting it into Jane's hands. "Smart, too, if she's a doctor."

"Ma…what're you saying…?"

Angela shrugged. "God help me, Jane, I'll go down the line for family. I try to be a good Catholic, you know that. But do you think I could disapprove of your Aunt Gina divorcing that abusive scumbag she married, just because divorce is such a taboo? Never! Now I'm not saying certain rules aren't in place for a reason, but if the price I have to pay to see _that _smile on your face is the fact that a woman put it there and not a man, well…" She sighed heavily and shrugged again. "I can do that!"

"_Really_, Ma?" Jane asked skeptically. "Just like that?"

"Well…so long as you weren't just doing it to get under my skin," Angela said.

"Geez, Ma, I'm not even dating her."

"Okay," Angela said lightly, putting her hands up in defeat. "Whatever you say, Jane! All _I'm_ saying is that—"

"Ma, just… not now," Jane muttered, shifting the box in her arms to get a better grip on it. "Maura and I are just—I don't even know if we're friends yet, we're just friendly co-workers!"

"She's a beautiful lady," Angela said in a sing-song voice.

"Ma!"

"What? I'm not surprised, Jane; I've been suspecting this for a while."

"Suspecting _what?_"

"That you might…you know!"

"Then why've you been trying to set me up with guys for so long?!"

"I don't know, I just thought maybe you needed a push! Or maybe I was wrong, I don't know! But you've always been so… I don't know, so sporty, so independent. I'm not saying this is a relationship I could understand right away, if you want it, but I've been preparing for something like it in case it ever happened."

"You have?" Jane asked blankly. Huh. Maybe her mother _did _know her better than she knew herself.

Angela shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah."

"Um…" Jane didn't really know what to say. She took a hesitant step towards the door, and Angela opened it for her. "Right, okay." Maybe no other words were required at the moment. Maybe this was just something she needed to ponder over for a little while, although that wasn't going to be very easy with Maura bouncing all over her apartment.

Jane was headed back to her own car, but Maura called out to her, "Why don't you put it in mine? You can just leave your car here, and I'll bring you back!"

"But…I'm…we're going to my apartment," Jane said. "Shouldn't I just drive there?"

"Your father was saying you'd be coming back this afternoon anyway," Maura said.

Jane raised an eyebrow at Frank, who said, "Remember? The St. John's benefit?"

"Oh yeah," Jane groaned. It involved baking, which was one of her lesser skills, but she had been coerced into it by Frankie. "Yeah, um…okay. Let's go then, Maura!" Once they had settled into Maura's gorgeous car, Jane actually started sifting through the box Angela had given her. "Wow. Uh, this is a bunch of really random crap… and what the—my old ice skates are in here!"

"You figure skated?" Maura asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, right!" Jane laughed. "Ice hockey! There was only me and one other girl on our team in high school. You skate?"

"I do. Or, I did. I haven't gone in quite some time."

"Huh," Jane said, suddenly picturing Maura in a glittering, Olympic-fit leotard, twirling to something from the Nutcracker. "You know, there's a skating rink just a few blocks from here, if you'd be interested in, um…"

Maura knew exactly the place, and was already turning the wheel to get on the street Jane had indicated. "Oh, I'm way ahead of you, detective."

Jane grinned at her. "Until we get on the ice, doc."

* * *

**A/N**: Just as a reminder, this is set before the pilot, so Jane doesn't have Jo Friday yet. Hence, the comment about having no pets. *Sigh*...this is turning out more in-depth than I had planned. So now I'm thinking this will probably end somewhere between five and ten chapters. I CAN'T HELP IT.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Don't mind me, just celebrating the end of the semester over here. Family shenanigans may limit my writing time, but it's hard to resist doing some good ole Rizzles Christmas fluff during the holiday!

* * *

Jane Rizzoli did not consider herself a show-off. She preferred to let her work speak for itself, to let a good job lie and pass along credit to others where it was due. The spotlight made her uncomfortable, and compliments were generally deflected. Even as a teenager, she had never gone out of her way to impress a date. She was a simple person: what you saw was what you got.

But once she got on that ice rink with Maura, she couldn't help showing off, just a bit.

One thing was certain, she was the fastest one out there. It had only taken half a lap around the rink before she was up to her old speed, skating through other patrons like a pro. Out here, she could feel entirely confident in herself and her movements, with no fear of screwing up. It was like riding a bike, it all just came back to her. Maura was standing by the rail, pulling her gloves back on and watching Jane go. When Jane got back to her, she couldn't resist making a full-on hockey stop a couple of feet away. Ice sprayed up in Maura's direction, and she laughingly moved back to avoid getting hit.

"You okay?" Jane asked.

"Just fine," Maura said, having hung up her expensive coat in the rink's lobby. She was kept warm by a thick charcoal sweater, and she was glad that her pants could mostly cover the tacky skates she'd had to rent. "You're quite proficient on the ice, Jane."

"Told ya," Jane said, giving Maura's shoulder a light bump. Maura nearly stumbled, only because of the unexpected move, but her grasp on the railing kept her from falling. "So did you figure skate, was that it?"

"Yes." She let go of the railing and slowly began to skate, and Jane kept up her pace so they could keep talking. "Skating and fencing were the only sports I was ever interested in."

Jane snorted. "C'mon, figure skating's not a _sport!_"

Looking somewhat affronted, Maura said, "Excuse me? By what qualifications do you categorize hockey as a sport and figure skating as something different?"

"Easy, you play hockey with a team."

"So singles tennis isn't a sport? Or running? Or—"

"Okay, okay, but there's like a goal and stuff," Jane insisted. "And points, and like, strategizing. I mean," she hastily added when it sounded like Maura was about to object again, "I _know _there's strategy to skating, 'cause not just anyone can do it, but …I dunno, it's not the same thing! It's not technically a sport."

"Technically it _is_, if the Olympics recognize it."

"Yeah, well, the Olympics also recognize ice-sweeping," Jane said, rolling her eyes.

"Ice-swee…Jane! How can you say curling isn't a sport? It's chess on ice!"

"_Chess? _Seriously? Well there's your answer, Maura! I mean, I like chess as much as the next guy, but it's not a _sport!_"

"You are insufferable!" Maura cried, though she had started to laugh. "So what is it, Jane?" She moved around so that she was in front of Jane, hands on her hips as she now skated backwards. "What does something have to be in order to qualify as a sport in your eyes? Involve abundant and abundantly clear use of teamwork, physical strategizing? It has to be 'macho'?"

"Not…not _macho_, no. I mean…"

"You mean this?" Maura asked.

She twirled back around and zoomed off, weaving between other skaters with a gracefulness that Jane could not have imitated with another thousand hours of practice. Where Jane could recognize her own style of skating as gruff, impatient, and abrupt, there was a majestic quality to Maura's. As Jane obligingly skated to the rail to watch, getting out of everyone else's way, she couldn't help thinking of the winter fairies in _Fantasia _who glided so fluidly on the ice as if that was the sole purpose nature had designed them for. That was what Maura's skating reminded her of. While Jane was sure she had probably seen more technically impressive material at the Olympics, she had never witnessed somebody as graceful as this in person before.

Maura spun, she twirled, but she never reached the point where both skates left the ice at the same time. In an attempt to feel like she was admiring more than the beauty of the image that was Maura Isles on the ice, Jane had let her gaze fall to Maura's impressively intricate footwork, but watching them for too long was making her dizzy. She didn't need to worry about being caught staring, anyway: Maura was carefully watching her feet as well, miraculously avoiding the other skaters, who all seemed to be giving her an awed berth anyway.

It was when Jane noticed the self-satisfied smile on Maura's face that she really realized Maura wasn't just trying to make a point about sports. She was taking her turn at showing off.

After a few laps around the rink, Maura headed back to Jane, hands clasped behind her back and eyebrows raised expectantly. She slowed to a stop, turning backwards and effortlessly resting against the wall, bringing her arms casually forward to cross them.

"Wipe the sweat from my brow, or take my pulse," Maura said. "Sport."

"Sport," Jane agreed.

Once Maura had caught her breath, they began to skate together again at a leisurely pace, enough to allow for easy conversation. "So when I was in high school, my friends and I were trying to decide what we'd wear and what we'd skate to if we were Olympic figure skaters," Jane said. "Just because, y'know, the outfits were and still are so ridiculous."

"What did you decide on?" Maura asked.

"Um…well, the point was to be as stupid as possible, so my song was gonna be the one that the sea witch sings in _The Little Mermaid_, and I was gonna wear a sparkly purple leotard with glittering tentacle attachments to match."

"That would be quite a sight!" Maura laughed, sure that she had heard that song at one point.

"What about you, Little Miss Show-Off? What would yours be?"

It was evident that Maura had given this some thought in the past, also: "It would have to be one of the movements from Stravinsky's _The Firebird_, most likely the second tableau. As Stravinsky himself might have put it, _Disparition du palais et des sortilèges de Kachtcheï, animation des chevaliers pétrifiés, allégresse générale. _It's truly one of the most transcendent pieces of music I have had the privilege of listening to. And then I would wear something colored in ivory or cream, with imitation-diamond studded trim on the sleeves and collar for show, something Harry Winston-ish."

"Well, that…certainly wouldn't have fit into our game," Jane chuckled.

"But it what's I would have chosen!"

"I know, and it suits you." Catching Maura's eye and grinning to let her know she was teasing, Jane asked, "Ever worry that you'll sound pretentious?"

Maura didn't even have to think about it: "No."

After that remark, she instigated a somewhat-relaxed race, at least picking up their pace a little. It didn't take too much longer after that for them to decide they had deserved a break, and Jane led the way off the ice to the little adjoining café. As they looked over the menu together, Jane got out her wallet and asked Maura what she wanted.

"A white hot chocolate sounds divine," Maura said, making sure the barista heard the order, and handing her a five-dollar bill as well.

"Old-fashioned hot chocolate for me, I guess," Jane said. She was glad Maura had gone ahead and paid for herself, because Jane had been ready to pay for them both, _as if this were a date. As if I had asked her out. She can't really be interested in me, can she? _Whatever the case, giving herself more time to think about it was probably wise.

They took a seat, and Jane nodded at a winter-themed display in the corner which featured a snowman and an abundance of papier-mâché snowflakes. "I see they've finally gone P.C. all the way. When I was a kid, there used to be a nativity set and a menorah, then they phased it out for Santa Claus and a dreidel, and now they've just gone as fail-safe as possible with some fake snow." She shook her head, and Maura merely nodded. "I… guess you never would've been the type to believe in Santa Claus, would you?"

"Oh gosh, no," Maura chuckled. "I was skeptical at even a young age. How could one man travel to every Christmas-celebrating child in the world in one night? And how could he fit into their chimneys, which is to say nothing of the homes without chimneys? And you certainly wouldn't have wanted to get me started on flying reindeer."

"Yeah, I was disappointed that there was never anything about them in Zoobooks," Jane said.

Maura's smile looked a little uncertain as she filed away yet another reference she hadn't caught. "What about you, Jane, did you believe in him?"

"Um…not really, I don't think," Jane said. "A lot of parents try to use Santa as this excuse to get their kids to behave good around Christmas, you know? Like if you're bad, Santa's not gonna bring you any presents. You'd be lucky to get coal in your stocking. So, the understanding was that good behavior would be rewarded with presents—good ones, too, and a lot of them."

"I suppose that's a sound line of reasoning," Maura said.

"Well, it hit a bit of a snag with me. One January when I was like six, I slapped Frankie upside the head 'cause he'd gotten on my nerves, and Ma got upset with me. And I said, 'what do I care? It's not Christmas anymore, so Santa isn't watching me anymore!' And then Ma told me that Santa watched us all year round, but he kept special watch during Christmas. So I asked then I asked if God was one of Santa's helpers."

"God? What does he have to do with it?"

"That's what Ma asked. I told her she always said God was watching us, making notes of when we sinned and when we did good. It seemed to me that Santa did the same thing, only in his case, he actually gave us presents once a year if he decided we'd been good enough. Believing in him became easier than believing in God, because at least with Santa Claus, you saw the fruits of your labor. Of course, somewhere in the back of my head I knew Christmas was about Jesus, and I wasn't totally sure where Santa fit into that story."

Maura just shook her head, trying to keep up. "This all—you are deceptively complex. I do not understand you."

"My parents didn't really, either," Jane chuckled. "Basically they freaked out, because I'm sure they thought I was about to start worshipping Santa instead of God, so from then on the idea in our house was that Santa was sort of just this mythical character somebody had invented to embody the spirit of Christmas, whatever that meant."

"Peace, love, understanding, giving, receiving," Maura suggested. "Perhaps?"

"Perhaps."

Their drink orders arrived, and the shavings of peppermint which had been carefully sprinkled on Maura's white hot chocolate sent her into a delighted state. Her happiness at something so simple was somewhat reminiscent of the gleam Jane had occasionally seen in her eye at work—not when she was actually in autopsy, but when she was perhaps explaining some sort of scientific process the homicide team had overlooked or been confused by.

"So I feel like we've been talking about me for too long," Jane said as Maura took a careful first sip. "I hardly know a thing about your childhood, Maura."

"Not much to tell," Maura said with a shrug.

"Zero in on something specific. No traditions whatsoever at this time of year?"

Maura thought about it for a moment, unconsciously swirling her glass a little. "Actually, there was one, I suppose."

"Great! What was it?"

"Every December until I came to BCU, my mother would take me to the _Opéra National de Paris_ to see Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker ballet. Have you ever gone?"

"Nah, but I know the music since they play so much of it on the radio this time of year."

"Oh, I loved it," Maura sighed. "I remember thinking even as a young girl, that there was something so miraculous about the art of dance. To this day, even, I am in awe of what human beings can do. Just the way these dancers could so lithely, so gracefully leap and turn on their toes, carry each other and spin around! Not to mention the exquisite tailoring in the costumes, or the quality of the sets and props. And of course, all the credit due to Tchaikovsky for having the brilliance to write something so sublime, and to have modern-day musicians who are so adept at interpreting it for the audience."

She stopped and found herself blushing under Jane's gaze, which she nearly felt comfortable deeming affectionate. "I guess I never really thought of it like that," Jane said. "My poor Ma put me in ballet classes when I was a kid, but I wouldn't go for 'em."

"That's too bad; you seem to have the perfect body for it," Maura said innocently.

"Yeah, well," Jane said, gulping down some more hot chocolate and giving her stomach an exaggerated slap. "You're forgetting my childhood nickname—Roly-Poly Rizzoli!"

"Oh!" Maura laughed. "Well rest assured, if you'd stuck with it and had the proper training, you would make for an absolutely regal ballerina now."

"Don't tell my mother that!" Jane groaned good-naturedly. "I'll never hear the end of it!"

"No, really!" Maura said with a smile. "I could picture you quite easily as a Black Swan."

Jane's phone started ringing then, distracting her from noticing the way Maura's eyes had narrowed slightly as she bit her lip, picturing Jane in a Black Swan costume. "Speak of the devil," Jane said, having successfully retrieved her phone. "It's Ma. One month with homicide, and she figures I've been killed if I don't answer my phone! Do you mind?"

"Of course not, go ahead."

Trying not to sound impatient, Jane answered the call. "Hey, Ma."

"Hi! How's the home-decorating coming?"

"The…oh, that. Yeah, um, we never made it to my place. I found my old skates in that box you gave me, so we decided to do some spur-of-the-moment skating," she said, shooting a furtive glance at Maura. "I hope that's okay."

"Why would you ask me if that's okay? You're an adult, Jane, you can make your own decisions."

"Yeah, I knew that. Sorry. What's up?"

"Well, we need you to come back right now if you wanted to help bake for St. John's."

"What, already?"

"Yes! Your father wrote the time down wrong on the calendar, and we need to be ready in an hour! Can you pull yourself away from your skates, or do I have to tell Father Anthony you'll be by for confession soon to figure out your penance for disappointing all those poor children?"

"God forbid," Jane sighed. _So much for being an adult who can make my own decisions._

"Bring Maura along, if you like."

"Ma, she's got better things to do," Jane said, again stealing a look at Maura across the table.

"You could at least ask," Angela said in a sing-song voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there in a minute."

"See you soon!"

"Bye." Jane sighed again and slid the phone back into her pocket. "I guess I need to go help out with that benefit a little earlier than I thought."

As opposed to looking hurt, Maura brightened a little bit. "What exactly is the benefit for?"

"Ah, poor families in the community," Jane said. "St. John's holds a silent auction on toys and baked goods for their congregation, and all the money goes to needy families in Boston so they can afford to have a nice holiday, I guess. We've participated for as long as I can remember, so I guess it's kind of one of our traditions."

"It sounds lovely."

"It is," Jane agreed before draining the last of her chocolate. Ma usually does something really elaborate, but she ran out of time this year, so we're down to just doing gingerbread men."

"Oh, I've never made one of those," Maura lamented. "They always looked like so much fun."

"Wait, are you serious?" Jane asked. "You've _never _made a gingerbread man? Have you ever eaten one?" When Maura sadly shook her head, Jane snorted, "They're pretty nasty-tasting, actually, but they're …fun to decorate, I guess. You should come on over and give us a hand."

"Really? You aren't tired of me yet?"

"Nope, not yet," Jane teased her.

They made it back to the Rizzoli's in record time, and while Frank took Maura's reappearance as a pleasant surprise, Angela was not so taken aback. As Maura was re-introduced to Frankie, whom she had met only in passing at BPD, Angela nudged Jane in the ribs, winking in Maura's direction. Jane pushed away with a scowl, stepping forward and taking Maura to the kitchen.

"What a beautiful home you have, Mrs. Rizzoli!" Maura gasped.

"Honey, just call me Angela! And thank you—we like it."

"Like what?" Frank asked.

"The house!"

"Yeah, I guess," he said, grinning at her.

"You guys have already started," Jane noticed.

"We didn't have the time to wait," Frankie said. "Believe it or not, sis, the world does not revolve around you."

"Shut up," Jane snorted. "Maura here's never made a gingerbread man, and I wanted to give her the chance."

Angela gasped loudly, as if Maura was suddenly the most depraved soul she had ever met. "We have just enough dough left to bake two more, I think! Let me roll out the dough again, and you and Jane can each cut one out!"

"Oh, thank you!" Maura said sweetly, clapping her hands together once. She turned to the sink, which she then noticed was filled with unwashed baking utensils. "Could you point me to your bathroom, so I can wash up before we get started?"

"Ah, of course!" Angela said. "Just down that hallway, the first room on the left." As Maura headed in the direction Angela had indicated, Jane walked over to the sink and rinsed her hands as best she could. Angela told her, "We've got to give Maura a proper education about decorating these cookies, Jane. They've gotta look great!"

"Ma, cool it," Frankie said, rolling his eyes. He explained to his sister, "Some people have really upped the game this year. You know the Capalbo's?"

"Oh, that ritzy new couple? You've always got people like that, though, who're gonna put up something really good—like remember when the Catalano's put up a Wii? It's not supposed to be about competition, Ma."

"Hark who's talking!" Angela balked. "You'd make a competition out of who could floss their teeth fastest if I'd let you!"

"And if you'd ever flossed your teeth," Frankie whispered to Jane, who grinned and spritzed some water at him. Raising his voice slightly, he said, "Anyway—apparently, the Capalbo's have some connection with the Boston Opera House, and they're gonna put up some tickets for the Nutcracker."

This sent Angela into a brief tirade about how un-Christian it was of a family to flaunt their wealth like that, distracting her husband and son as they tried to tell her to relax and that the gingerbread cookies would be fine and appreciated. Meanwhile, Jane leaned against the counter and mentally added another zero to the amount she'd prepared to spend at the auction that afternoon.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you AliceSF for the suggestion to include the Nutcracker! I'd been so focused on the Rizzoli side of things that I hadn't considered what Maura might find an enjoyable holiday activity, and this seemed to fit pretty well. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**: So Christmas is sort of long gone, but I was sad I never got around to finishing this story, and now I want to. Sorry it's been a while since the last update! Things have been very busy, and I haven't had much time to write- but now that the holidays are over, I should find time to write more easily.  
When last we left off, Jane was contemplating buying some tickets to the Nutcracker...

* * *

Jane had never stared at a phone for this long.

She was sitting in her kitchen, a beer in one hand and a gingerbread man in the other, her cell phone lying innocently on the island in front of her. Two tickets for _The Nutcracker _were stuffed into her wallet, finally purchased with the confidence that if Maura did not want to go or could not go, Jane could always sell the tickets to the people who had come in second at the auction. While she'd managed to get a decent price on them, they hadn't been exactly cheap, and she was wondering if it would be weird to present such a gift to someone she was only barely starting to get to know.

Maybe if this was a date, it wouldn't feel as weird? Or would it be weirder?

Hence, the stare-off with her phone.

She had initially planned on just texting Maura about it, but decided a phone call would be more direct and she would get a more immediate response. The sooner she knew what to do with these tickets, the better. That meant no more putting it off. And so Jane finally dialed the number in her phone which had only recently been changed from _Dr. Isles_ to _Maura_.

It rang twice, and Maura's voice was a whisper: "Dr. Isles."

"Uh…" _Crap, did I wake her up? It's already 7:30! It's not her day off, is it? _"H-hey, Maura, it's Detect—uh, it's Jane."

"Hello, Jane!" Maura said brightly, though her voice was still very quiet.

_Oh, geez. Maybe she's whispering because she doesn't want to wake someone up. Maybe she's already dating someone! Why didn't I bother to find out?! Argh! _"Is… sorry, is this a bad time?"

"No," Maura said, her voice back at a normal volume. "And I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm whispering. I'm sitting by a window outside of which I've hung a bird-feeder, and they're really going at it this morning! No surprise with all the snow on the ground, really. When you called, my automatic response was to whisper so I wouldn't disturb them, but that's entirely ridiculous as they can't hear me, right?"

Her laugh was infectious, and the only one Jane had ever heard that she might have classified as musical. "A little ridiculous, but given the hour, I'll let it slide," she chuckled. "See any cool birds?" It felt like a dumb question right after she had asked it; it wasn't as though Maura was going to report a macaw or something else that would qualify as something cool.

"Actually, I believe I'm looking at a tufted titmouse at the moment." Maura pulled the phone away from her ear when Jane made some sort of immature "pfft!" laughing noise, louder than she had intended to. "What is so funny?"

"Maura, seriously? A _tit_mouse?"

"That's what they're called!" Maura laughed. "Jane, I never even—I never even thought of that!"

"How could you _not?_" _Ha, ha, um, maybe because she doesn't already have a fixation with tits. Or she doesn't have a twelve-year-old boy's sense of humor. _

Maura indulged her in laughing some more, saying, "The 'tit' in its name comes etymologically from the synonym for 'small,' not breasts. Goodness. Now Jane, what did you call to ask me about, anyway?"

"Oh! Right. Um…" Jane had almost forgotten her reason for calling what with the newfound pleasure of silly bird names. "Y'know that auction my family went to yesterday?"

"Yes! How did it go?"

"It was good, really good. Your cookies were a smashing success."

She sounded truly giddy. "Oh, wonderful!"

"Yeah, I squirreled one away, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all."

"Anyway though, um… I decided to buy something there. At the auction, I mean." Jane told herself the pause was for dramatic effect, not an attempt to calm her nerves. Jane Rizzoli didn't get nervous. "They're two tickets for _The Nutcracker_, and I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to go with me." _Smooth! See? Was that so hard?_

"Really?"

"Yeah, totally! You did a pretty good job of selling me on it the other day, and I figured …y'know, I thought maybe you'd like to go. But if you don't, it's cool, don't sweat it. I mean, the show's on Friday, so I know it's not a lot of notice."

"I don't have any plans," Maura said, a little too quickly. "I'd love to go."

"Really? Sweet!" Jane laughed, then realizing it probably wasn't cool to sound surprised that Maura wanted to go with her. "It starts at eight, and it's at the Boston Opera House, so… what time should I pick you up?"

"I should think a quarter after seven would give us sufficient time—the Opera House isn't far from where I live."

"Great, okay!" She had been about to add "it's a date," but stopped herself just in time. Jane only would have meant it as an expression, but worried that Maura (as she was prone to do) would take it literally, which Jane still didn't quite feel comfortable in asserting yet. "I'll see you then!"

"Yes, you will! And…presumably later at work, today?"

"Oh right, I'll see you then, too. Both of those thens, I guess!"

"Jane, how much did you spend on these tickets?"

"What?"

"I want to know how much I owe you for mine."

"Maura, don't be ridiculous. It's my treat."

"Jane, please, I insist—"

"No, _I _insist. I'm buying. In fact, I already bought. And I'm never telling you for how much."

"But Jane…"

"Hey, for all you know, it was a steal! Maybe I'm cheap and only spent five bucks on you. On it." _Whoops_.

Maura sounded amused now. "Jane, are you sure?"

"Yes, Maura, geez! Calm your titmice!"

There was a moment of deafening silence before Maura burst out laughing, and Jane joined her (partially in relief that Maura seemed to have gotten the joke). When they hung up a few moments later, neither could quite fight the smiles on their faces, and Maura couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard. In fact she knew the only recent time she had smiled this much had been yesterday, when she'd been making gingerbread cookies at the Rizzoli's. Even if Frank and Angela bickered, even if Jane and Frankie teased each other, there was a familiarity and warmth in that family which were strikingly absent in Maura's own. Being invited into such an atmosphere was shaping up to be the best holiday present she had ever gotten.

* * *

"Got some place to go, Rizzoli?"

Crap. Caught clock-watching again. Before Jane could respond, Frost said, "I think I got that one, Korsak. Jane's got a hot date tonight."

"Shut up," Jane snorted, flicking her pencil at him.

Looking amused, Korsak asked, "That so?"

"Totally," Frost said. "When I went down to Maura's office earlier, she told me all about the big night. They're going to _The Nutcracker_."

"You're sitting through a ballet for her?" Korsak laughed, walking over and clapping Jane on the back. "Pretty early in the relationship for her to have you wrapped around her finger, isn't it?"

Jane stood up quickly, scowling at Korsak. "Shut up, guys! Going to the ballet was my idea, okay? I got the tickets at an auction put on by my parents' church, and Maura told me she really liked the show, and I thought it would be fun for us to do something outside of work together."

"Frankie said you've already been doing plenty," Frost said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, well… we're friends now, okay? And what's with giving me the third degree anyway, are we twelve?"

"Nobody's giving you the third degree, Jane," Korsak said calmly. "I for one think it's very classy of you to take our introverted medical examiner out to an event you know she'll enjoy, even if you won't."

After a small sigh, Jane grabbed her blazer and muttered, "It isn't a date."

That said, she had to admit she found it comforting that her co-workers didn't seem repulsed or weirded-out by the notion that Jane might have genuine interest in dating a woman. Their ribbing had had more to do with the venue of her date, not the gender of the other person involved. She wasn't sure why, but relationships had always been the one area in Jane's life where she didn't feel at all like a badass. Slowly she was starting to wonder if she'd always wimped out before because her heart had never really been in it, hard though she might have tried to convince herself otherwise.

And now she was feeling very non-badass because she was tripping over herself trying to figure out how to ask a girl on a date without sounding like a tool. Or maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe it would be as simple as picking Maura up, going to a ballet, taking her home, and then asking if she'd like to do it all again sometime. Yeah. Yeah, that could work.

Except maybe Maura wasn't interested. Maybe Jane had misread everything she'd so far interpreted as gentle flirting. Maybe Maura was straight, or didn't think Jane was her type, or didn't want to date a co-worker. That definitely had the potential to make things awkward, possibly to the extent that she would feel uncomfortable attending a Christmas party hosted by Jane's family. And then she'd be spending the holiday with an ex-boyfriend, a scenario Jane did not like imagining.

_Geez, this is getting stupid. Just go with the flow, Rizzoli. It's cool. Be cool. _

Easy to say, harder to do. When Jane knocked on Maura's door promptly on time, she was not prepared for the vision that greeted her. While Jane had put some effort into looking nice tonight, deciding to actually put on a little makeup and even wear a dress, it was clear that Maura had a gift for putting together a look that Jane could never hope to possess. Her hair looked fine when it was pulled back at work, it looked pretty even, but there was definitely something to be said for the freedom in letting those gentle curls tumble over her shoulders, shining and unrestrained. Her dark green dress was simple but elegant, belted and long-sleeved for the weather. A pair of silver snowflake earrings matched the color of her stockings, which disappeared into tall, impressively-heeled black boots.

"Wow," Jane said.

"Yes?"

"Uh… you look really fantastic."

"Thank you! So do you."

"No I don't, I…"

"That red is a very daring color," Maura observed, getting her coat from the closet by the door before stepping outside. "I would think most women with your palette would avoid it, but it really works for you. And look!" she laughed, pointing to Jane and then herself. "The traditional Christmas colors!"

Jane chuckled and got into her car. "Good thing we picked different ones, huh?"

"I didn't even choose mine purposefully. I just know that green is a color that suits me. It brings out my eyes."

"Yeah, it does," Jane agreed. She placed her hand on the back of Maura's headrest, and for a few moments, their eyes met. There was the black eyeliner again, assisting the dress in making Maura's eyes really stand out, and Jane's breath caught. But she quickly turned her head further to the right, looking behind her as she backed the car out of Maura's driveway. She could tell Maura was watching her, and in an attempt to fight off a blush, she asked, "So! Red and green …are they Christmas colors because of holly, or…?"

Maura brightened at the opportunity to shed a little light on something for Jane. "There are two prevailing theories for why red and green are traditionally associated with Christmas, actually, and one of them is pagan. There was a festival in Ancient Rome known as _natalis solis invicti_, or the 'the birth of the invincible sun,' celebrated during the winter solstice. The Romans would hang wreaths of holly—"

"A-ha! I was right."

"—on their doors and walls to welcome back the sun. Now this might surprise you, but the idea to celebrate the day of Jesus Christ's birth in December actually harks back to paganism as well…" Jane wasn't sure what she'd been expecting to hear about en route to the Boston Opera house, but it certainly hadn't been the surprisingly well-informed mini-lecture on the history of early Christianity, which ended as they drove up to the parking lot with Maura explaining, "…and so, the red is actually intended to symbolize the blood Christ would eventually shed for humanity, while the green remained as a symbol of 'ever living.'"

"Nice," Jane said. "So you're wearing the color that represents resurrection and eternal life, and I'm wearing Jesus' blood."

Maura frowned thoughtfully. "…or we could stick with the holly idea."

"I like that one."

"Okay."

Jane couldn't remember the last time she had been at a venue besides a baseball stadium where ushers were employed, and she had to admit it was kind of nice to be led to a seat some place that wasn't filled with drunk, screaming people sitting on food-stained, uncomfortable seats. The stage was very impressive and the theater itself was decorated gorgeously, but Jane couldn't keep her eyes off the excitement in Maura's face as the doctor eagerly scanned the program. When she felt she had been looking for a bit too long, Jane followed Maura's example and looked over the program as well.

"Oh, it was written in 1892?" she asked conversationally.

"You sound surprised."

"I guess that makes sense, actually. I guess I always kinda thought it was older for some reason."

"Nope! It didn't even fully premiere in the United States until the 1940s."

"Wow, really? Fifty years?"

"Yes. It wasn't very successful upon its initial release."

"Really!"

"Apparently there have been quite a few changes made since its premiere that have made it more enjoyable."

"Well, Maura, I have to say. Ma was really pleased that I got these tickets, and it never would've occurred to me to try _enjoying _this ballet if it hadn't been for you. So… thanks. And I'm sure Ma thanks you, too, for getting me interested in coming."

Maura smiled at her. "You're welcome. Thank you for inviting me."

"You are very welcome, Dr. Isles." Jane shrugged off her coat, letting it bunch awkwardly around her seat as she cast about for a different topic of conversation. "Hey, look," she muttered, nodding at a boy and girl a few rows ahead of them. The girl was reading the program, and the boy was shifting around, his arm tentatively reaching towards her a couple of times before he wound up trying to pretend he was reaching for something he'd dropped on the floor behind them or adjusting his jacket on the chair. "What d'you think, first date?"

"If it is, it was a poor choice on somebody's part," Maura giggled.

"Aw, what makes you say that?"

"A girl who's on a date shouldn't look that bored!"

"Give 'em a break, Maura!" Jane laughed. "They're young, he's probably just trying to impress her! I mean, look at this place! The _the-a-ter!_" she said, exaggerating the three syllables in a mock sophisticated accent. "Wouldn't you be impressed if… uh, if you were a kid, and uh…"

Maura turned her gaze directly at Jane. "Yes. I would."

"You said you grew up in Europe, right? I bet guys took you out to really nice places."

As Maura shrugged and talked a bit about her teenage dating life, she and Jane were totally unaware that a couple a few rows behind them were doing some bored, pre-show speculating of their own, wondering if those two gorgeous women who'd come in together were just friends or on a date.

When the curtain finally rose, Jane was duly impressed at first, but she found herself zoning out relatively quickly. The music was occasionally stirring, and it was jarring in a fun way to realize that yes, she _did _recognize some of it, but she had to resign herself to the fact that ballet just wasn't very interesting to her. When the excitement of live performance had worn off, Jane focused on the athleticism of the dancers, figuring she really had to hand it to Maura that ballet could probably be considered a sport. The amazing thing was how graceful these particular athletes were able to make their sport appear, physical exertion notwithstanding.

A few times, Jane glanced surreptitiously at Maura to see if she was having a good time, and each instance she dared look, the answer was obvious and the same: Maura was in heaven.

Still, when the intermission came, Maura hopped up from her seat so fast that Jane worried she was trying to make a quick exit. "You okay?" she asked, getting to her feet as well.

"Oh, yes, but I need to use the restroom."

"Oh," Jane said, laughing at herself a bit.

"All mammals have to pee," Maura said a little defensively. "And I've been to enough shows to know that women always—"

"—have a line going out the door and down the hall within seconds," Jane said, waving Maura on. "I understand. Get going!"

Moving quickly, Maura was actually able to get in and out of the restroom fairly quickly, feeling unaccountably victorious when she left and saw that the line had quadrupled since she'd gone in. Her smile didn't fade until she re-entered the theater and heard someone calling her name. It turned out to be a certain ex-boyfriend.

"Garrett! What a surprise to see you here!"

"Small world, eh?" he laughed, going in for a hug. Maura awkwardly returned it, glimpsing at the man who was standing just behind Garrett. "Oh, excuse my manners," Garrett said. "This is Rory Graham, a neighbor of Adam's. Actually, Adam and his wife were supposed to be here tonight, but he got sick, so I volunteered to come along and bring a date. And Rory—this is Maura Isles, the one who got away."

His tone was jocular enough, but Maura still felt a tad ill at ease as she shook Rory's hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise! I'm sure my wife would've liked to meet you, but I'm afraid she didn't make it to the bathroom quite as quickly as you seem to have. I'm thinking she and Garrett's date will be lucky enough to get back before the show starts up again. Or maybe they'd be lucky if they _didn't _get back in time…"

"Oh, c'mon!" Garrett laughed, punching Rory's shoulder. "Not having a swell time?"

"Rather be watching a game," Rory sighed. "But what can ya do when the ladies are in charge of deciding where date night should be, hm?"

"You could do what society calls 'man up' and be a good sport about it," Maura suggested.

Rory frowned, but Garrett had to smile at Maura's typical way of calling things like she saw them. "Boy, you haven't changed a bit, have you?" he asked. "What d'you say you come out for some drinks with us after the ballet?"

"Oh, I don't know…"

"Who're you here with, anyway?"

"Just a friend," Maura replied, wary of calling it a date when Jane hadn't expressly defined it as such.

"Yeah? Can I meet her?"

"I don't see why not."

Although Rory hadn't been invited, he tagged along for lack of anything better to do. Jane glanced over when she saw Maura approaching, then jumped to her feet when she recognized Garrett Fairfield and, of all people, one of the biggest jerks she had graduated high school with.

Before Maura had a chance to make any introductions, Rory laughed, "Whoa! If it isn't Roly-Poly Rizzoli!"

"You two know each other?" Maura asked.

"Graduated high school together," Jane said through her teeth, smiling a very fake smile. "Nice to see you, Rory. Been a while."

"Sure has. I hear you're like a security guard now…?"

"She's a detective," Maura said sharply, stepping slightly in front of Jane. "Homicide."

"Very impressive!" Garrett said, sticking out his hand while Rory just sort of rolled his eyes. "Hi. Garrett Fairfield."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Fairfield. I'm Jane Rizzoli."

"We met through work," Maura explained.

"Right!" Garrett said, turning to Rory. "Maura's the Chief Medical Examiner in Massachusetts."

Now Rory actually looked impressed. "You don't say! Figures Rizzoli would need someone with some brains to really help crack cases, huh? And I bet you make the big figures, too," he said, giving Maura's shoulder a light tap. "Say, did you know my company—"

"Oh, look at that," Jane said loudly when the lights started to flicker. "What is that, like a two-minute warning? You guys had better get back to your seats; wouldn't want to miss the start of the second act."

"Guess not," Rory said, narrowing his eyes at Jane. After Garrett had said they'd have to meet up again after the show was over, the two of them started walking back to their row. "Wow. Well, nice job with that one, Fairfield."

"What?"

"Are you the last serious relationship that woman had? Because I think you turned her into a lesbo."

"Excuse me?"

"C'mon, you didn't see her drooling over Rizzoli? And trust me, Jane Rizzoli would not be caught dead at something as—_feminine—_as a ballet unless she was going to get some."

"Rory, you're such a charming fellow," Garrett snorted, rolling his eyes. But now that Rory mentioned it, there _had _seemed to be something unusually territorial about Maura's stance and tone around Jane…

Meanwhile, Jane and Maura had sat back down, the latter fuming silently, forcing a smile when she noticed Maura was looking concernedly at her. "Nice thing about not living in your hometown?" she said. "I guess you never have to worry about running into old classmates."

"I'm sorry, Jane."

"Hey, don't be. You didn't know. Geez, this is my fault anyway, my attitude. Douchebags like Graham shouldn't still get to me."

"You're right, they shouldn't," Maura said. "He's not…"

But the lights went back out and the curtains opened before Maura could finish the thought, and even if she'd wanted to keep talking over the music, she wouldn't have been able to make herself be heard. She couldn't just sit back and enjoy the ballet again, though, not when Jane was slumped in her seat looking absolutely miserable. What Jane was thinking about was the fact that she couldn't even look forward to the show just being over now, because she was sure Maura would want to take up Garrett on his invitation to get drinks afterwards. He had seemed a lot nicer in person than she'd ever imagined a rich kid like him to be. Her eyes were glued politely to the stage, but she wasn't taking in anything anymore. She was subconsciously gripping her program, twisting it in her hands, nearly ripping it in two.

When Maura's fingers tapped against the back of her palm, Jane thought it was Maura's way of trying to stop her from in fact tearing the program. So she dropped it back into her lap, but to her surprise, Maura slid her hand beneath Jane's, turning it over and interlocking their fingers. Jane stared down, then straightened up in her seat a little before meeting Maura's gaze. Maura smiled encouragingly at her, and Jane felt her heart swell as Maura gave her hand a squeeze. She could feel herself grinning back, and this time it wasn't forced.

After the squeeze, Maura demurely withdrew her hand, but her and Jane's smiles both remained in place as their eyes returned to the stage.

* * *

"I still can't believe you fell asleep."

"I didn't!"

"You did! And I still can't believe you're trying to deny it!"

"Oh, well, you should believe stuff like that at this point."

"What a waste. I'm never inviting you to anything sophisticated again."

"Um, excuse me!" Jane laughed, pulling onto Maura's street as Maura snickered. "I'm the one who invited _you_! And I dozed off for like a second, okay? Not because I was bored, because I was tired. I still _am_ tired."

Maura shook her head. "In that case, I suppose it's a good thing we hustled out of there, as opposed to meeting up with Garrett afterwards."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Jane sighed, pulling into Maura's driveway. She put the car into park, but left the engine running.

"I'm not," Maura said. "I didn't want to spend the rest of the evening with him and that insufferable former classmate of yours! Besides, I'm tired, too."

"Oh yeah, you and your early titmouse watching," Jane chuckled.

"Bird-watching is a very popular pastime, Jane! It would behoove you to try it out sometime!"

"I think I'll pass, but thanks," Jane yawned. "I've had all I can take of being in your shoes for a while now. Being at that opera house, I mean."

"Thank you again for the evening, Jane."

"Hey, no problem. See what I sacrifice for you on a Friday night? That's what I call friendship."

"Really?" Maura asked, smiling a little and biting her lower lip.

"Yeah," Jane said, her heartbeat quickening slightly. "Wouldn't you?"

"I don't know," Maura said. "I was going to say, this is what I'd call the end of date."

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! Feedback would be an awesome belated Christmas present :)


	6. Chapter 6

When Maura saw Jane's eyes dart nervously, she worried the detective was trying to think of a way out. Actually, Jane spent about two full seconds looking for Ashton Kutcher. She had to be getting punk'd right now. Had to be. Wait, was that show still even on? Did they renew it without Kutcher hosting it? Why was she thinking about that when Maura had just smiled and stated her belief that they had just been on a date?

"Yeah…" Jane finally said, agonizingly slowly. "I bought tickets. I came and picked you up. We went out. I drove you home."

It sounded like Jane was trying to work it all out, to go over the implications of it all. "You've made me do something I've never done before, Jane," Maura realized.

"What?" Jane asked quickly.

The smile on Maura's face looked shy. "I called something like I saw it." When Jane's eyes narrowed slightly, Maura explained, "Surely you've worked with me long enough to know that I typically don't like jumping to conclusions. I don't guess, I don't like 'what if's, I don't hypothesize without a heavy amount of research or evidence to back me up."

Jane's hands brushed her car keys, maybe to kill the ignition, but she didn't turn off the car yet. "So you think you have enough to hypothesize here?" she asked.

Maura licked her lips. "Well… based on the reasons you just listed, as well as a number of smaller other observations I made—I have to say that yes, in retrospect, I believe I may have had the grounds to comfortably state a hypothesis. That felt like a date to me, but that doesn't mean it was one." _Oh, I shouldn't have said anything. I've frightened her, I've made her feel awkward. I should probably un-invite myself from her parents' Christmas party; I've touched a nerve and she'll feel strange if I show up to that. Apologize and exit the vehicle. _"Jane, I'm… sorry if I made you uncomfortable—"

"No." Jane surprised them both by reaching over and taking Maura's hand. Her eyes dipped down to their hands briefly, and she squeezed Maura's fingers before looking back up at her eyes. "I don't, uh… I don't have any, um, any experience in…" She sighed impatiently, blinking hard and trying to start again, which was difficult to do when Maura Isles was looking at her so searchingly and so curiously. "I mean I've just never dated a…" There was another rush of nervous breath. "Co-worker."

She raised her eyebrows hopefully, praying that for once, Maura would be all right without a literal set-up. Jane nearly sighed in relief when she saw Maura nod.

"I see. Is there—or rather, do you have some sort of policy against it?"

"No," Jane said lightly. "I've just never done it before."

Maura rubbed her thumb over the back of Jane's palm. "And how does the prospect of it make you feel?"

"Honestly?"

"I'd prefer the truth, yes."

"Right. Well, um… then honestly, it does make me a little nervous," Jane admitted quietly. She strengthened her grip on Maura's hand, as if to emphasize to them both that she wasn't going to let fear make her back out. "Just 'cause it's something I've never done before, y'know? So I think I'm sort of hung up thinking about all the ways I might screw it up. It's kinda complicated, isn't it?"

"I don't think it has to be," Maura murmured. "What are your feelings towards the concept of mind over matter, Jane?"

"Um…"

"There's an adage my mother used to enjoy throwing around when I was young," Maura said, "in hopes of eradicating my nervousness. And I think it could be applied to how you feel about dating a… co-worker. Whether you think you can make this work or not, you're right."

It took Jane a few moments to figure that one out. "Interesting idea," she said slowly.

"I always thought so."

Jane's gaze darted elsewhere as she chewed her lip, casting around for ideas of what she should say next. When she looked back at Maura, it was to see the doctor's eyes were still patiently trained on hers. It was a little odd—Jane wasn't used to people trying to sustain eye contact for so long. Part of that probably had to do with the fact that she interacted daily with people who were afraid they were about to be arrested or worse, and eye contact freaked them out. But no… it just wasn't something people did anyway, was it? Sustained eye contact. It was something strange about Maura, or perhaps just something special.

"Have you ever dated a co-worker before?" Jane finally asked.

Maura's lips pressed tightly together before she responded; she was trying to tell if Jane was still trying pass off "co-worker" as code for "woman." Judging by the nervous way in which Jane was biting her lip, it would seem so.

"Let's put it this way," Maura finally said. "I have always kept my dating options very wide, wider than you lead me to believe you have." The way she said it didn't make it sound like a put-down, and Jane nodded to herself. Their hands were still clasped together, and Maura gave another squeeze. "Come inside?" she asked quietly.

Jane let out a shuddering breath, then pulled her hand away and used it to finally twist the keys back towards her, effectively cutting the engine. She took a moment to register that having the car off didn't make the atmosphere that much quieter than it usually seemed to, which is when she realized she hadn't had the radio on for the drive back from the opera house. When she was off-duty, she always had music going in the car either for her own entertainment or to drown out awkward silences if she was driving with someone else. But when it was Maura Isles in the passenger seat, she found herself not needing any background noise. She had wanted nothing to distract her from this brilliant, beautiful woman who was somehow interested in her.

Definitely, _definitely _interested in her.

_Don't screw this up, Rizzoli_.

"Maura, I'm gonna put this all out there," Jane said, resting her arm on the steering wheel. "I really like you, a lot. I thought the holidays were gonna really suck this year, and so far they haven't, 'cause I've been spending so much of them with you and you're so…" Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the right adjective to use, her hand rolling as if trying to grab a phrase out of the air. It was the downplayed-but-obvious eagerness in Maura's expression that pushed Jane on to continue: "Cool."

"Me?" Maura laughed. "I have to say, Jane. I've been called an excessive amount of things in my lifetime, and 'cool' has never been one of them."

"Yeah, well, take it from Frog-Face Rizzoli," Jane chuckled. "You're cool." Maura's smile sustained her own for a while, but Jane eventually sobered up a little. "Are you gonna …I mean, I want to ask you two questions."

"All right."

"The first one is, would you go on another date later this week?"

"Another date with _you_?" Maura clarified.

It was a rare moment where Jane was the one who couldn't tell if Maura was joking or not. "Yeah."

There was nothing difficult to read about Maura's smile. "Absolutely."

"Great, so… the second question is, I guess, would it be okay with you if I asked to take this slow?"

Maura's mega-watt smile softened, still present but in a quieter way. She reached for Jane's hand again, the one whose fingers had been restlessly drumming the steering wheel. "That would be fine with me, Jane. And in which case, I would only ask you to at least see me to the door."

Jane quickly unbuckled her seat belt and hurried out of the car, running around the front of it before Maura could even put a hand on her door handle. She had to grin at the unnecessary chivalry of Jane opening the door for her, even offering her a hand as she got out. Maura thanked her, but something in her voice made Jane wonder if the move had been awkward and/or silly.

_Don't try to be a guy_, she told herself as they walked towards Maura's front door. _Just be you. That's all she expects_.

"I had a wonderful time," Maura said, turning to face Jane once they had stopped. "Thank you so much for doing that for me, Jane."

"Hey, it was my pleasure."

"I look forward to doing something together again."

"Outside of work? Sure you want to?" Jane joked.

"Utterly and unreservedly sure."

Jane felt freer to smile a little wider now. "Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she said.

And before she could chicken out entirely, Jane leaned down and left a quick kiss on Maura's cheek, close to her mouth. She turned and walked back to her car, forcing herself not to rush, to act as calm as she thought she ought to feel. It wasn't fear flooding through her, though; it was unprecedented giddiness. She was _giddy_. She couldn't remember ever using that word to describe herself, but there it was. It was the only word that fit her mood.

She wasn't sure if a word existed to describe how she felt when she got to her car and paused before entering it, looking back to see Maura still standing in the doorway, hand on her cheek, smile on her face.

* * *

The next day was a busy one, at least for Maura. Before lunch she had attended conferences for two different cases, finishing up reading some police reports in between. Jane, meanwhile, was going over a cold case in lieu of having a fresh one to solve. Her attempts to find any new or relevant information were seriously limited, and she found herself getting frustrated quickly. She pored over the psychological profile of the main suspect, who happened to be the youngest sibling in a good Catholic family. His two older sisters were model citizens, and he was the screw-up. Handsome kid, maybe too handsome for his own good.

Too familiar.

Maura had just been preparing to sit in her office alone with some quinoa salad when her phone buzzed. Her initial reluctance to check the text message vanished when she saw that it was from Jane: _Hey, I'm gonna need lunch soon. You free? _

_ You caught me just in time! _

_ Great, I'll be down in five. I want to take you somewhere._

_ Oh Jane, that's so sweet of you, but I already brought something to eat_…

_Good! You can bring it with you. Now stop texting me so I can finish this file. _After a longer pause had followed this text than usual, Jane reread it and realized Maura might have thought Jane had actually found her annoying. Hoping to assure her that wasn't the case, Jane sent a smiley face, which was quickly returned.

"Wow," she said out loud.

"What?" Frost asked.

Jane flipped her phone in her hand before sticking it back in her pocket. "I just used an emoticon in a text."

"Welcome to the modern world," Frost chuckled.

Fifteen minutes later, Jane and Maura were seated on a park bench, overlooking a nearby playground. Several kids were monkeying around, most of them with sleds, and it occurred to Jane that it might have been slightly crazy to have a lunch date outside when there was snow on the ground. But she'd wiped the snow off the bench with her gloved hands, then laid a heavy blanket over it so it wouldn't be too cold or wet to sit on, and Maura voiced no complaints. She had her salad in a fancy Tupperware balanced carefully on her lap, while Jane took large bites out of a sandwich Maura was struggling to recognize.

"What is that white substance?" she finally asked.

"This? It's fluff," Jane said, looking bewildered that Maura didn't know what it was.

"Like downy particles of cotton?"

Jane stared at her, and Maura felt an embarrassed flush coming on. "It's marshmallow," Jane said, smiling to let Maura know it was all right. "And the brown substance is called _peanut butter_. It's… ground-up, heavy, oily particles of peanuts. What, they didn't have that in your fancy boarding school?"

"I'm afraid not," Maura said.

"Wanna try some?"

"Want to try some quinoa?"

"No thanks," Jane chuckled, turning her attention back to the playground. "Sorry for dragging you out here in this weather, Maura."

"Mm, I don't mind," Maura replied. "The fresh air does me good, and I feel properly dressed to fight off the cold. Although to be honest, I'm not sure I'll be able to stay out here much past the time I finish this salad."

"That's fair," Jane said. "I just wanted to show you this place, 'cause I used to come here a lot when I was a kid. My brothers and I, we came here a lot."

"Brothers?" Maura asked. "I thought it was just you and Frankie."

Jane grimaced slightly and took another bite of her sandwich. "Nah, there's Tommy, too."

"Oh! Where is he?"

Jane sighed before answering, her voice curt: "Prison."

Maura turned to look at her, and if Jane had reflected the move, she would have seen the sorrow and sympathy abundant in Maura's expression. "Oh," she said, her voice softer. "Jane, I'm sorry. How long?"

"He's been in for two months. He's got two years."

Something registered. "Oh—last night, when you said you were worried the holidays were going to be unpleasant. I thought you were talking about the last case you just solved …is it about Tommy?"

"Yeah," Jane snorted. "It's just still sort of hard to believe it happened, y'know? And it's almost like my parents are in denial about it all, Ma especially. We're all supposed to be good kids, but Tommy's always been kind of a trouble-maker." Despite herself, she laughed, and she pointed towards the end of the hill that faced them. "See those trees over there? When we were kids, we had a race to see who could sled down the hill the fastest, and Tommy rammed into Frankie on his way down. He always said it was an accident, but Frankie swore it was on purpose—anyway, Frankie kinda flew off course into one of those trees. Broke his tailbone, poor guy."

"Poor Frankie!"

"Seriously. He had to sit on this red inner tube thing for weeks to protect his butt!" Jane couldn't help laughing. "Aw, he got picked on so bad. Anyway …did you ever work on the McNally case?"

"Sian McNally? Yes, I remember that one. It's cold, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I was taking a look at it today. Number one suspect kinda reminded me of Tommy, and that kinda freaked me out. He'd never commit murder," she said quickly, noting the alarmed look on Maura's face. "Never, no. I just mean—I dunno, I hate that he got himself landed in jail, and that there's nobody to blame but himself. I can't beat anyone up for him. I can't say it was someone else's fault."

"How old is he?"

"Thirty-two."

"Well." Maura put her hand on Jane's back, rubbing it with soothing circles. "It sounds as though he was old enough to make his own decisions, Jane. You can't try and spare him any consequences that justice felt he deserved."

Jane hadn't realized she'd been slouching until Maura touched her back. "Yeah," she said quietly, sitting up. She had finished her sandwich, and crumbled up the Ziploc bag she'd stored it in, stuffing it into her pocket. "Guess not."

In an effort to lighten the mood, Maura asked, "What about you, Jane? Were you a rambunctious child?"

"You could say that," Jane laughed. "I was competitive 'to a fault,' as Ma liked to say. Hell, I'd even make a contest out of who could do the most snow angels in our yard!" When Maura appeared once again lost by Jane's terminology, Jane groaned good-naturedly. "Aw, no! C'mon, you never made a snow angel?"

"I'm afraid not," Maura said. "What does it entail?"

"Well, finish up your kemo-sabe salad and I'll show you."

"_Quinoa_, and—wait, does it require getting in the snow?" Maura asked, when Jane got to her feet and took a few steps forward. "Jane, this dress is a Cassandra Strickenberg! I've risked enough just by sitting on this bench."

"I'm going to feel kinda stupid doing this myself, then, but here goes," Jane said. Smirking at Maura, she allowed herself to flop backwards, and Maura actually stood up in shock. Then she laughed as Jane started spreading her arms and legs, moving them back in forth as if doing a jumping jack while lying in the ground.

"Your clothes!" Maura couldn't help saying. "They're getting soaked—how will you get through the rest of the workday?"

"I was gonna down to the gym for a while anyway," Jane reasoned. "So I'll be changing out of them soon, anyway. Besides, I'd be remiss if I didn't show you _a.s.a.p. _how to do a proper snow angel. You know, so you can practice yourself at home. Help me up?"

Maura held out a hand, and Jane grasped it tightly. But she pulled a little too hard, and Maura's heels slipped. She gasped and attempted to hold her balance, but after a few wobbly seconds, she was falling. Jane came through, shifting her position to catch Maura in an awkward pose, still on her back on the snow, with Maura hovering over her.

"You okay?" Jane asked breathlessly.

"I…yes," Maura said, sounding shocked. She was trembling. "Fine."

Jane's mouth curled into a smile. "Cassandra Stricken-de-lickenberg all right?"

Maura allowed herself a laugh, but did not allow herself to think before she leaned down and kissed Jane's lips. What she loved almost as much as the fact that Jane was returning it was the sensation of feeling Jane smiling beneath her. It was chaste and it was short, if only because Maura was afraid if they continued, her legs would give and she would collapse into the snow between Jane's legs, which would ruin her dress.

She got carefully to her feet, and this time leant the strength required to help Jane up as well.

"So anyway," Jane said, unthinkingly keeping her hold on Maura's hand. She turned and gestured to the rather messy snow angel on the ground. "Um… that would've looked better before I fell and squashed it."

"It's all right. You can try again another day," Maura said, going back to the bench for her bag, which she had left on Jane's blanket.

Jane folded the blanket with one hand, her arm now looped through Maura's, and they started walking back to her car. "Just as well, I guess. I mean, would it be too cliché of me to say you're enough of an angel for this park?"

"Mm…pushing it, maybe," Maura said with a smile.

Jane snorted, but Maura knew she wasn't truly offended. "Okay, whatever then…" She tried to think of a word besides "demon" that connoted a meaning opposite of angel. "Earthling!"

And for a woman who had been told many times as a child that she was too weird to have come from anywhere but outer space, that comment was enough of a compliment in and of itself.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: In which Jane quietly comes out.

* * *

Christmas Eve was typically a subdued affair for the Rizzoli's, especially compared to the loud and busy party that followed the next evening. Angela would still make enough food to feed a village, but it was just for the family—or, as Angela reminded Jane on the twenty-third, for any "special guests." Jane was quick to remind her mother that the last special guest who'd been invited to their house on Christmas Eve had been Frankie's ex Teresa, not exactly a proud relationship from his past.

"So?" Angela balked. "Are you saying Dr. Isles would renege on a car payment?"

"What?" Jane asked, unable to help scowling slightly.

Despite the fact that Angela had been the one to encourage the relationship in the first place, Jane had yet to mention that she and Maura had been on a few dates. In fact, she had yet to mention it to anyone. Nobody knew the lengths she would go to in hopes of starting a smile on Maura's face, of getting her to laugh in order to lighten up a bit. Nobody was confided in regarding the butterflies Jane felt in her stomach every time an elevator door opened to reveal Maura, much less the ones that arose when Jane picked her up at home.

_After enjoying Jane mock the end of a Hallmark Christmas movie they had been unfortunate enough to catch, Maura had abruptly asked Jane why they were keeping their relationship a secret at work: "From the extensive research I've done, there's no policy in place forbidding interdepartmental dating."_

"_I guess there's not, then," Jane sighed, shifting off of Maura and rubbing the back of her own neck._

_Maura pushed her hair behind her ears and smoothed out her dress. "Is it because I'm a woman?" she guessed._

_Jane paused a little too long for Maura' comfort. "No, that's not it," she said evasively, reaching for Maura's hand. "I just feel like we don't need to broadcast it, y'know? Especially not till my family knows. I don't want Ma freaking out because someone in dispatch got it to her or something." She sighed again and said along with Maura, "And why doesn't your family know yet?" Continuing on her own: "It's not you, Maura. It's me. I've never really, like… told my family about my dating life. Believe it or not, I was never the kind of girl who'd just come home and spill to her mom about some cute guy I'd just met at school."_

"_Funnily enough, I can believe that."_

_Jane snorted. "I told Ma about this boy I liked in fourth grade, and she got so involved in the world of my little crush, that I never told her something like it again. Frankie and I are close, but he's always been a little obnoxious about my dating life. And Pop…"_

"_The two of you seem fairly close," Maura observed._

"_Sure," Jane sighed. "When there's a ball game on or I needed a ride to hockey practice. As far as he's concerned, I'm one of the boys, and boys don't talk about stuff like feelings." She glanced up to see that Maura looked a little confused, wanting to ask something but not knowing how to word it. Jane figured it had something to do with the fact that she had just cited a difference between boys and girls that was not grounded in biological or anatomical evidence. "Never mind," she muttered. "Look, Maura, I'd be acting the same way if you were a guy. I swear."_

"_You've hidden…" Maura stopped herself from saying "relationships," again wary of labeling something without Jane's consent. "…the fact that you're dating from your family before?"_

"_Sure, lots of times," Jane said, shrugging. "I mean, there hasn't been anyone in a while anyway, but yeah. It's just …I dunno, I figure if it's someone who's gonna stick, or at least someone I really like, I'll get around to it." She smiled lightly at Maura. "You've got a leg up on most of past dates—you've already met my cuckoo-bananas family!" _

_Maura laughed at the phrase and then bit her lip. "Much as I take that as a compliment, I'd rather have my leg up on you."_

That had been two days ago, and a blush heated Jane's cheeks as she remembered the intensity of the make-out session that had followed. The redness in her cheeks did not go unnoticed by Angela, and she cursed her inability to stop the blush from spreading. (Actually she wondered and made a mental note to ask Maura if that was the sort of thing a body could train itself to stop doing, or at least do less severely.)

"Jane, you're not embarrassed of your family, are you?" Angela asked seriously.

"No," Jane sighed.

"Does Dr. Isles have somewhere to go on Christmas Eve?"

"I don't think so. But like, I dunno, Ma! She's not Christian, what does she care if she's got somewhere to be on Christmas Eve or not?"

"Jane! That isn't the point!"

"It isn't?"

"No! The point is that it's a time of year when people celebrate love and happiness and togetherness, and someone as nice as Dr. Isles doesn't deserve to spend it alone. She doesn't deserve to have to spend _any _night alone if she doesn't want to, not when there are people who would gladly have her over."

And thus commenced a brief stare-off. Even though they had already broached the subject of Jane possibly dating a woman, Jane didn't feel particularly rushed to start broadcasting the newest chapter of her love life. For her part, Angela was close to just grabbing Jane's shoulders and saying she wasn't stupid and she wasn't blind. But Jane had clearly been nervous when Angela had told her she wouldn't mind if she tried dating a woman, and for once, tact reigned her in. Just leave the bread crumbs, and Jane will pick them up if she wants to. No use forcing her hand—forcing her hand usually makes her want to try the opposite, anyway.

"I'll ask her if she wants to come," Jane said in a rushed voice, and Angela smiled to herself. "Okay, now Ma? Will you please let me get back to work?"

"Of course," Angela said, tossing a paper bag into Jane's lap. "I just brought this for you because I know you're always forgetting to pack lunches!"

Jane warily opened the bag, but couldn't help grinning a little when she caught sight of the fluff inside. "Thanks, Ma," she said, her voice considerably less agitated-sounding. After downing the sandwich Angela had brought for her, Jane hurried to get down to the morgue. There, she found Maura reading a file as she waited patiently for the results of a DNA test. She was so into her work that she hadn't even looked up when Jane walked in, prompting Jane to clear her throat loudly. "Hey, beautiful."

That got Maura's attention, and she stood up as smiling as Jane sauntered over. "Hello there!"

"Got a question for ya," Jane said, picking up one of Maura's pens and rolling it between her fingers. "Have any plans for tomorrow night?"

"No," Maura said, frowning a little when she thought she could read Jane's smile. "But you have, haven't you? It's Christmas Eve. You said your family always spends it together."

"It's true, we do," Jane replied. "But we're allowed to bring guests, and I'd really like it if you'd come as mine."

It had never been Jane's style to invite dates to her family functions, but everything with Maura felt different. They had only been seeing each other for about a week, and it was a record time for both of them to decide they wanted the relationship to be exclusive. Jane couldn't speak for Maura, but it was the first time she had ever gone into something hoping to do her level best for the other person involved. Before, she had always assumed it would just be a matter of time before she screwed up, and she'd (somewhat selfishly) just tried to get whatever she could out of it before the relationship inevitably wound up going south.

But this, it was all just so different. On the surface, Maura Isles was collected and had it together and led a glamorous, privileged life. Underneath, though, there were small insecurities that gnawed at her, most especially a longing to fit in that she never mentioned for fear that it would sound juvenile or out of sorts with her classy exterior. Jane had taken notice, though. For once, she went into a relationship ready to be a white knight, wanting to make sure that her date never felt unwanted or unwelcome.

Keeping the relationship a secret was force of habit, one Jane hoped this invitation would wind up breaking.

"You sure it wouldn't feel strange?" Maura asked. "Too fast?"

"Maura, I'm not asking you to have my baby," Jane chuckled. "It's just a holiday party, one that I'd love to have you around for. Yeah, the timing might seem a little weird, but it's nobody's fault that we just started dating around this time of year." She shrugged and offered one of her irresistible little half-smiles. "And I dunno. Tomorrow night'll be fun, yeah, but I'd look forward to it even more if you'd be there."

Maura slowly put down her file, contemplating. Jane made her feel good in ways nobody had for quite some time. Her days were made a little easier, a little brighter, knowing Jane would be there at the end of them to talk if she wanted to. She was unaccustomed to experiencing such an upped level of enjoyment in such a short amount of time. Her paranoia would not leave her, though. Irrational as it seemed, this was a time of year when people became extravagant, when they bought and did and said things they typically wouldn't, and only did for the sake of "holiday cheer." What if Jane, already on a high from solving a high-profile case, had been so relatively open about dating her because of the added boost of holiday happiness which had always felt just out of Maura's reach? What if she got tight-lipped at the party and what if…

But then Maura remembered she didn't like working with "what if"s.

After a breath to steady herself, Maura said, "Thank you Jane. I'd be delighted to come."

Jane took off work a little early to prepare something for Maura, and as she worked, something slightly troubling occurred to her. Yes, it was good that Maura had already met her family, but it kept Jane from having the excuse to introduce her as more than a friend. "_Hi, guys. This is my date, Maura Isles. Play nice_." Technically she figured she _could _still say that, but she couldn't help feeling like now her father and Frankie had just accepted Maura as Jane's quirky new friend, and now there would be that added pressure of "okay and now we're dating."

Which is when Jane remembered Frankie was the one who'd suspected things in the first place.

It was a little before midnight on the twenty-third when Jane took her first step. Texting was the coward's way out, she knew, but at least it was going out at all.

_Hey bro. You awake?_

The thirty seconds before his response were some of the more anxiety-filled ones Jane had ever known. _Yeah. What's up?_

_Not much. Remember how you said you thought Maura was into me?_

Frankie wasn't sure if he should be smiling or be worried as he texted back: _Yeah…_

_Well you were right. _Jane sent merely that, then it dawned on her that tone was difficult to read in texting conversations, so she needed to give him more information. _We're kind of seeing each other now._

_Kind of?_

_We've been on a few dates. _

_Did she ask you out?_

_It's a long story. I'm bringing her to Ma and Pop's for dinner tomorrow, just as my date. Ok?_

_You asking my permission…?_

_No just wanted someone to know before we get there._

_Do you want me to tell Ma? Or Pop?_

_No I will. Don't say anything. And in case you were wondering your Christmas present from me this year is giving you permission to tell me "I told you so."_

Jane figured the conversation had ended when Frankie failed to reply right away, but just as she was getting into bed twenty minutes later, her phone buzzed on the desk.

_I told you so. ;) _

* * *

Maura had offered to drive to Jane's parents' house herself, but Jane balked at the idea, she insisting on picking up her date. She couldn't help but laugh a little when Maura opened the door wearing a snug crimson dress and charcoal sweater.

"Didn't I tell you the dress is casual?" Jane asked.

A slight frown creased Maura's features as she took in Jane's apparel: a plaid red-and-black sweater over a clean pair of jeans. "This _is _casual," Maura defended herself. "For me."

"Of course, Dr. Isles," Jane chuckled, reaching for Maura's hand and leading her towards the car. "And my mother will love you for that."

"So what's the plan for tonight?" Maura casually asked once they were in the car and driving along.

Jane stole a glance at her. "We go with the flow," she said.

"What flow?"

"Just…" Jane reached over for Maura's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Be natural."

"I don't see how I could be anything else," Maura said, looking and sounding nonplussed.

"Don't force anything."

"Um…all right."

When they reached the house, Maura was yanked inside by Angela before she could even get in a hello. "Oh, Dr. Isles, what an honor to have you in our home again! I'm so glad Jane could talk you into coming over tonight!"

"Well, to be honest, she didn't have to try _too _hard," Maura laughed, handing Jane her coat when the woman reached for it.

"Really?" asked Frank. "My wife's crazy ways haven't driven you crazy yet?"

Angela scowled and slapped her husband's shoulder. "Quiet, Frank! Dr. Isles won't know you're joking!" She scoffed when Frank just rolled her eyes and walked away, waving for everyone to follow him. "Don't mind my husband," Angela whispered to Maura, looping their arms together. "He just has a bad sense of humor. One I'm sorry to say I think Jane inherited!"

Rather than respond, Jane rolled her eyes as well when Maura looked over her shoulder to smile at her. "Har, har, Ma. Is Frankie here yet?"

"He's just putting the garnish on the roast." Angela gasped loudly and stopped their progression down the hall. "Maura, do you eat meat? I forgot to ask!"

"Oh, don't worry, I do! While I can appreciate the health benefits of going vegetarian, it is not a lifestyle to which I personally care to ascribe."

"Thank goodness!" Angela laughed. "I live in a house full of meat eaters, so I always forget to ask other people if they do or not. One time Tommy…" Her speech stopped automatically, and she glanced at Frank, who was now staring at the floor, then at Jane, who only raised her eyebrows. Angela cleared her throat, finally bringing Jane and Maura to the living room. "Tommy brought a girl for Christmas dinner last year who was vegan, and he didn't tell me. I didn't have hardly anything fit for her to eat! So he went door to door—on Christmas afternoon!—trying to find anyone who had anything vegetarian he could just microwave for her! She should've been impressed with his resolve, if you ask me, but I think they split up pretty soon after that."

"Well, maybe she realized he still had some growing up to do," Frank muttered, playing with the frayed edge of the tablecloth by his chair.

"Pop," Jane said in a warning voice.

He looked over and noticed for the first time that Jane's hand was on the small of Maura's back. Maura herself had taken it for granted until she realized where Frank was looking, and she glanced up at Jane, whose gaze was fixed on her father. After a few moments, Jane cleared her throat and shifted her hand so that it rested on Maura's hip, pulling her close for a second before nodding towards the closest chair.

"Go ahead, take a seat," she said, getting the chair next to it for herself.

"Isn't there anything we can do to help with dinner?" Maura asked uncertainly, remaining standing even as Jane sat down.

"Oh, isn't she sweet?" Angela laughed. "Thank you, dear, but we're just about ready to sit down. I don't think Jane's ever been early for a meal if she could help it!"

"There's ice on the roads, I was trying to be safe!" Jane argued. Angela just waved her hand dismissively, then asked Frank to help her bring the dishes out to the living room. "And now," Jane said under her breath to Maura, "You'll witness the annual fight over whether to play Crosby or Como with dinner." It was a small thing, but overhearing the light-hearted bickering match Jane had correctly predicted made Maura smile. She found that she liked being let in on a secret—a family secret, no less. "And don't feel bad picking off some of Frankie's garnish if you want," Jane continued. "He usually puts on too much."

Right on cue, Frankie came into the dining room holding a large plate with a roast on it. "Evening, ladies!"

"Hey, bro," Jane said quietly, smiling as she put her arm over the back of Maura's chair.

He grinned as he set down the plate, ultimately sitting across from Jane. Then he leaned back, pulling out his wallet. "Okay Jane, so what'll it be?"

"Mm, well…if I recall correctly, Ma browbeat Pop into choosing Bing last year, so he's probably gonna force his way this time around."

"I dunno, he doesn't seen in a real confrontational mood tonight."

"So he'll just roll over eventually?"

"You don't think he will?"

"Nah. Ma knows he's tense; she'll wanna smooth things out in a minute. My money's on Como."

"Your loss."

Maura's eyes had darted between the two of them like somebody invested in a tennis match, desperate to know who would come out on top. Although she didn't know enough to be in the bet, she found herself happy to again be privy to what seemed to be a Rizzoli-specific annual tradition. The three of them waited in suspense for a few moments as Angela and Frank's discussion moved to the sitting room and out of earshot, and then Jane crowed when Perry Como's voice finally came out of the loudspeaker. Frankie banged his fist on the table in faux annoyance and handed a five-dollar bill across the table to Jane, who slipped it in her pocket just before their parents walked in carrying the rest of dinner. Frank sat at the head of the table, and Angela sat herself next to her son.

"So if Jane always shows up just in time for dinner, what's her traditional role on Christmas Eve?" Maura asked teasingly.

"I say grace," Jane replied, reaching for Maura's hand.

Maura took it only when she realized Angela was waiting to take her other hand, and she saw that everyone was holding hands. Slowly she completed the circle, but did not bow her head and close her eyes with the others—not until Jane began reciting, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. There was something so gentle, so reverent in Jane's tone that Maura really hadn't heard her use before. It was so beautiful, it breathed life into words Maura had heard vainly repeated a few times of the years. But never like this.

"You made it sound like someone was really listening," she whispered after the amen, when Angela immediately started dishing up some potatoes for her.

"Well, it sounds like somebody really was," Jane said, winking and giving Maura a light elbow nudge.

It took Maura a moment, but then she laughed softly—a sound which quickly turned surprised when she looked down and saw that her plate had been filled with food.

As the meal and concurrent conversation unfolded, Maura realized it had been a while since she'd been at a dinner like this. It wasn't a huge party, it wasn't a night on the town with a date, it wasn't a function or event. It was intimate and it was warm (and not just because Jane's hand was on her leg for half of it). These were people who genuinely wanted her there, not because of her name or profession, but because they knew she had become important to their daughter. And what's more, they found her interesting: after Frank would share some anecdote about Jane, he or Angela would ask Maura for a story about herself. And the questions weren't general, either; they weren't what a stranger would ask merely in an attempt to pass the time.

What none of them could believe was when Maura had had to answer negatively when asked if she had ever seen _It's a Wonderful Life_.

"You, Miss Artsy-Fartsy fancy person, have not seen a black-and-white movie that _I _have?" Jane gasped. "There it goes, Maura, you've ripped open the space-time continuum!"

"Were that even possible, Jane, I doubt it would hinge upon whether or not I had seen a certain movie."

"It's not just a movie!" Angela insisted. "It's a _classic! _And furthermore, it's how we've always wrapped up our Christmas Eve. Normally we don't insist guests stay for it, but I'm afraid you have no choice. You're staying, and you're watching it with us."

"You all get started," Frank said, as per tradition. "I'll clear up and bring out the dessert when I'm done."

As they all rose from the table, Maura again whispered to Jane, "Shouldn't we offer to help?"

"Nah," Jane mumbled. "Pop likes having a little time to himself around this time of year. Emphasis on 'little,' I guess."

She led Maura by hand into the sitting room, where Frankie was already putting in the movie. Angela settled herself on a padded rocking chair, and Jane took her usual side of the sofa. Once she had pulled Maura gently down next to her, she transferred her hand around Maura's shoulders, rubbing the far one gently. The movie started up, and Maura leaned her head against Jane's shoulder, her hand reaching up to grasp Jane's fingers. If she could've craned her neck to see, she would have watched a smile unfurl itself involuntarily on Jane's face.

"You can tuck your feet up, if you want," Jane whispered.

"But my boots…"

Jane nuzzled her nose into Maura's hair, leaving a short kiss on top of Maura's head (which Angela missed and Frankie, sitting on the other end of the couch, pretended not to notice in case Jane hadn't meant to showcase it). "S'okay," she said quietly. "Any boots of yours are definitely cleaner than any couch of ours."

About twenty minutes into the movie, Frank finally arrived in the sitting room. He looked over at Jane, who caught his eye and shifted her arm under pretense of reaching for the bowls he was holding. Maura straightened up, returning her feet to the floor before graciously accepting the bowl of peppermint ice cream Jane was now handing to her.

"I made the fudge sauce," she couldn't help saying. "It's my grandma's recipe, but she always said I made it best."

Maura tasted some and said she was inclined to agree.

By the time the movie was over, Jane noted that Rizzoli family tradition had held up as usual: Frank had fallen asleep halfway through, only to be woken up by Angela's loud sobbing during the final scene, and Frankie was trying to subtly wipe away a tear. The DVD menu came blaringly back up, and Frank groaned and got to his feet, saying it was time for a drink. Frankie followed him to the kitchen, taking everyone's dishes with him.

"Wasn't that just beautiful, Maura?" Angela sniffed. "Did you love it?"

"It was a lovely film," Maura answered sincerely.

"Why've you been avoiding it all these years?" Jane teased her.

Maura shrugged. "I didn't avoid it, I was just never exposed to it. I believe my parents thought it too saccharine, and then I just never got around to watching it myself." She looked contemplative, and as Angela excused herself to go make sure Frank was opening a bottle of something acceptable, Jane took Maura's hand and raised her eyebrows questioningly. "It's a provocative concept, isn't it?" Maura asked. "Wondering whether your absence on earth would make a difference in anyone's life."

Even if she stopped there, it wasn't hard to see where Maura's train of thought was going. Jane still didn't know a ton of detail about Maura's family situation, only that she was adopted. Increasingly it seemed that her parents hadn't had much time for her growing up, which felt odd considering they must have gone out of their way to get her. By her own admission Maura didn't have many friends, and had struggled to maintain a serious relationship in quite some time.

"Hey," Jane said quietly, rubbing her thumb along the back of Maura's fingers. "Y'know Dr. Pike, Maura?"

"Yes," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Apparently Korsak used to have to work with him a lot before you got hired. Korsak's no M.E., but apparently he had to go back and check Pike's work a lot. And he was constantly having to correct him at crime scenes. So see, if you'd never been born, Korsak would be bald because he'd have pulled out all his hair by now." Emboldened by Maura's chuckle, Jane went on, "And Frost would still probably barf at crime scenes. He told me about your immersion therapy and how much that's helped him feel more comfortable stomaching stuff. Gets less ribbing from Korsak and Crowe, too."

"Really, even Crowe?"

"Well, sort of," Jane conceded. She got to her feet, again bringing Maura with her by the hand. As they walked towards the open door that led back to the dining room (where her family was congregated, pouring champagne into rarely-used glasses), Jane said, "Then there's me."

"You?"

"Well, me and you." Jane stopped, bringing Maura around to face her, putting her hands on the doctor's waist. "You made my job a lot more bearable than I thought it was going to be, and …you've made me smile more in these last few days than I ever thought I could with Tommy being where he is." She knew her family was watching them, and she found herself in a strange state of not caring. "You make me comfortable," she whispered.

Her eyes glanced upwards and Maura's gaze followed: mistletoe. Jane leaned in for a short kiss, one that despite its length, was clearly intentional and clearly meant to convey more than friendliness. Maura smiled into the kiss and returned it while she could, hands briefly rising to frame Jane's face before Jane pulled away.

Angela was smiling as Frank poured the last glass of champagne. Frankie raised his own and said, "To my big sister, Jane—the richest woman in town!"

* * *

**A/N**: To the uninitiated- yes, that last line was an appropriation of the finale to _It's a Wonderful Life. _Which you really need to see if you haven't. Please.

And by the way, thank you for sticking with this story even though it's almost February!


	8. Chapter 8

It was half past eleven when Jane finally got around to driving Maura home.

"So," Jane sighed heavily, pulling into Maura's driveway. "Looks like you survived unscathed. A Rizzoli Christmas Eve, I mean."

"Looks like _you _survived, albeit barely," Maura chuckled. She took Jane's hand encouragingly, her voice softening. "See? It wasn't so hard, was it?"

A smile worked its way slowly onto Jane's face. "No," she whispered. "It wasn't."

Actually, as wonderful as the evening had been in most respects, part of it had been difficult for Maura. Particularly, the last bit. Apparently one tradition Angela refused to break was that each of them opened a gift on Christmas Eve, which her kids had never been very excited about because the gift was always a set of pajama's. The guys' matched and Jane's always matched her mother's, a cutesy touch she had never cared for (especially as Angela always ordered them from the same company, which Jane was sure employed only the most color-blinded of Lifetime-watching grandmothers).

This year had been no different, and Angela had foisted the box on Jane before she could leave. Maura offered to take a picture of everyone in their matching clothes, and as she'd fiddled with the photo settings on Angela's phone while they all changed, she couldn't help feeling a little sad. She didn't feel left out, especially as Angela had apologized profusely for not having another set Maura could put on. Much as Jane had employed the term over the last week, Maura knew there was no such thing as "Christmas magic," and yet it was hard to know what else might have caused Jane Rizzoli to allow her mother to hug her so much in this mini-photo session.

The only reason a lump had formed in Maura's throat was simply because she could never picture doing something this goofy with her family. Frank might have been smiling a little stiffly and Jane might have been rolling her eyes, but the sentiment of bashful family love stuck.

"Let's get one of the lovebirds, huh?" Frankie had suggested.

"Oh, but I don't think I'm dressed for it," Maura responded.

In lieu of replying, Jane began unbuttoning the new flannel top, which boasted a surprisingly un-embarrassing pattern: a simple red-and-cream plaid. She had on a white tank-top underneath it, and though Angela insisted she'd be cold, Jane waved her off and handed the top to Maura. Though a little unsure at first, Maura pulled the large plaid top over her own sweater, grinning at the camera when Jane stood behind her and put her arms around her.

Angela texted Maura the photo, and it arrived as she and Jane idled in the car in her driveway. Maura laughed and showed it to Jane, who just shook her head at how ridiculous the oversized garment looked on Maura.

She was still wearing it.

"I suppose I should give this back, now," she said a little shyly, preparing to remove her coat to get at the flannel.

"No," Jane said softly, touching Maura's arm by way of telling her to stop. She had bundled up with a puffy jacket of her mother' to make up for her own lack of proper attire. "I don't like sleeping in button-down stuff, anyway. I sleep on my stomach most of the time, so it's not really comfortable for me. So, um… you can keep it, if you want. Unless—I dunno, unless it'd be weird."

"I'm not really the right person to ask if something seems weird or not," Maura admitted. "So… do _you _think it's weird?"

"No way," Jane muttered, her eyes dipping briefly to Maura's lips. "I think it's really …um, really _not _weird." She leaned in for a kiss, one which Maura quickly and eagerly returned. "Mmm," Jane hummed, letting her fingers curl at the back of Maura's neck. "I still don't get it."

Maura's breath hitched when Jane left a short kiss at her jaw. "Get what?"

Jane inhaled deeply and pulled back just a bit. "When I was a kid, Ma used to tell me that it took fewer muscles to smile than it did to frown."

"Did you know that's actually undetermined?" Maura whispered, kissing the corner of Jane's upturned mouth. "You would be hard-pressed to find two scholars who agreed precisely on the subject. It's mostly an adage." She chuckled when Jane said "oh," her grin widening slightly. "What were you going to say, though?"

"Smiling really feels like a work-out right now. Like, for my face. My face is sore."

"Aww, Jane," Maura giggled. "You pretend to be such a badass, but you're really just a softie, aren't you?"

"Not towards many people."

"Just the ones you date?"

"Um…just you, actually," Jane realized. Maura was genuinely touched, her features softening as Jane averted her gaze. "So there's my Christmas confession, I guess."

"I look forward to more of the same."

"Yeah, yeah, don't spread it around," Jane chuckled.

Maura laughed, took Jane's face in her thinly gloved hands, and pulled her close enough to kiss. It was too short for Jane's liking, and Maura shifted to breath into her ear, "Good night, sweet prince."

Jane stayed numbly in her car, watching as Maura walked carefully to her house on the icy driveway. She sat stock-still and Maura fumbled for her keys, eventually picking them out of her purse and turning the lock before waving Jane goodbye with a million-dollar smile. This had been their routine a few times already; Jane wouldn't leave until she saw Maura safely inside. But this time she didn't want to leave. A buzz was going through her from head to toe, and she nearly felt drunk with—with _something. _Happiness or anxiety or affection, she wasn't entirely sure. All she knew was that she could not go home.

Without another moment's deliberation, Jane vaulted herself out of the car and hurried towards Maura's door. She knocked (just to the side of a wreath she had helped the doctor pick out), and when Maura opened it, looking surprised, Jane stepped inside and pulled her into a kiss. After an initial gasp escaped her, Maura quickly gave herself over to it, lifting her arms around Jane's neck and rolling her hips towards her. The door had been closed by one of them and Jane's first plan had been to press Maura up against it, but she didn't get the chance when Maura instead turned them to the side, her hands now at Jane's waist, keeping her against the wall.

For the next minute or so, Jane was only barely conscious of the fact that they were moving, in tandem, to Maura's bedroom. But she didn't fully realize it until the back of her knees hit the end of the bed, and with a light push, she was on her back with Maura looming over her.

"Maura…"

There was a hint of hesitation in that tone, a drop of nervousness. Not wanting to take this too fast. Not wanting to mess up, to be insufficient. Maura smiled reassuringly, and her dimples caused Jane's stomach to lurch.

"You didn't ask me what I wanted for Christmas," she whispered.

"Well, that's 'cause I kinda already got you something," Jane said back, her hands coming to rest near Maura's thighs.

"And I'm sure I'll love it. But I have one request to make."

"Okay, name it," Jane said, her voice a breath.

Maura leaned down for one more kiss. "I want you to wake up with me on Christmas morning."

"Funny," Jane whispered. "I was going to ask for the same thing."

* * *

When Maura woke up that morning, it took her a moment to realize what was different. There was an arm resting over her stomach, curls by her shoulder, and a warm body pressed quite closely behind her. She smiled to herself as her fingers found Jane's, and she heard a soft pleased sound come out of Jane at the action. She shivered when Jane pressed her lips against the back of her neck, tightening her hold at Maura's waist ever so slightly.

"Happy December 25th, Maura."

Maura shifted to lie on her other side, so she could be facing Jane. But when she caught sight of Jane's toothy grin and tousled hair, she found herself suddenly speechless. She encircled her arms around Jane as best she could, pressing her face into Jane's shoulder and holding her tight.

"Merry Christmas, Jane," she mumbled.

Jane gently rubbed her back, both of them knowing Maura didn't have to say or explain anything else.

As a child, Jane's Christmases had consisted of she and her brothers waking up at dawn, entertaining themselves best as they could until 6:00 a.m., the earliest their father said they could wake up the parents. A melee would briefly ensue at 6:01 as they delved into their stockings, Frank made coffee, and Angela took photos (and eventually videos, once Frank splurged on a good camera). The older Jane got, her enthusiasm for rising early waned, but her excitement was taken on by Angela, who was soon the one hassling Jane to get out of bed on Christmas morning. These days, Jane and her brothers would head over to their parents for a late breakfast to exchange gifts, and as everyone finally had enough sleep and their lives no linger hinged on getting that certain toy or piece of sporting equipment, it was an enjoyable morning for all those involved.

Maura had grown up jealous of her classmates who described the excitement of Christmas morning. She couldn't imagine anything like that, because there just wasn't anything like it. Not even a birthday—a birthday was about one person alone. Christmas seemed to be a collective experience, a family holiday, something she yearned for desperately. Her parents enjoyed the time off of work by sleeping in, and Maura never bothered asking if they could get up early to celebrate. They would give her gifts, but rarely was it anything personal (she had never known what to ask for, and even if she had, she wouldn't have known how). A few boxes were unwrapped, and the paper was then quickly discarded by the house staff before Maura could consider recycling it into a book cover or some such thing.

She had just grown to assume Christmas morning would never be enjoyable or meaningful for her, and she readily accepted it.

But that was before this year, before she woke up still wearing Jane Rizzoli's flannel pajama top. The one that matched the pants Jane Rizzoli was still wearing. It was before she truly appreciated snow for its aesthetic qualities, rather than focusing on the inconveniences it could cause. Before she had ever made a gingerbread cookie, tasted wassail, made a snow angel, or seen a true holiday classic. It was before she ever actually had a gift she was excited to give someone.

"Your feet are like ice," she suddenly noticed, running her foot down by Jane's.

"Yeah, I ran a little errand this morning," Jane admitted. "I just got back a few minutes ago."

"An errand? Were stores open?"

"I just went back to my apartment to grab something," she explained. "A couple things, actually. But anyway." She cleared her throat. "Don't let me disrupt your usual morning routine. Just act like today's any other day—what would you do first?"

Maura bit her lip, thinking. First she would probably brush her teeth and take a shower, but… "I don't want to act like today's any other day, Jane. For once, I just want it to be something special."

"One Christmas special, comin' right up," Jane said cheerfully.

She got onto her knees and tugged Maura over to her side of the bed before getting to her feet and scooping Maura up into her arms. Jane smiled at the delighted gasp this elicited from Maura, as the doctor's arms loosely wrapped around Jane's neck and she headed for the door of the bedroom. She nudged it open and walked straight for the kitchen, dropping Maura onto a stool by the island.

"Do you like pancakes?" Jane asked.

"Of course."

"Good, because I made some batter here."

Maura slid off the stool and walked around to Jane, who, while she had managed to locate a pan and spatula, looked mystified by the many buttons and knobs on Maura's impossibly fancy stove. Wrapping one arm around Jane's stomach, Maura leaned around her to turn the appropriate dials that would start a fire under the pan. Once it got going, her eyes brightened when she noticed a small gift-wrapped box by the fridge.

"Is that for me?" she asked.

"Actually, it's for Bass," Jane said, reaching over for the package. "No, seriously!"

"I can never tell if you're joking or not."

Jane tossed her the box. "Yeah, well, open it and see how serious I am."

She had to chuckle at Maura's precision in unwrapping the thing. Whenever she or her brothers opened a gift, paper and bows tended to get ripped and tossed around thoughtlessly. You would think Maura planned on scrupulously saving the entire paper, preserved perfectly, as she gently peeled the tape back and carefully removed the bow. Jane figured she had enough time to put some batter down in the pan, which she did.

Eventually, Maura's mouth fell open in gentle surprise. It was a carton of British strawberries.

"I remember you saying he liked those," Jane said, briefly worrying that Maura's expression was an unhappy one. "It took me a while to find some, like, I wound up going to this grocery store I didn't even know we had, but, um…"

"I can't believe you remembered that," Maura said, once she had recaptured her ability to speak. "I was sure that would just get filed away as some random, inconsequential comment, like most of my ramblings."

"Hey," Jane said quietly, resting her hand at Maura's waist. "I listen when you talk, Maura."

It broke her heart a little to see the lovesick expression on Maura's face, which seemed to say, _"that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." _Instead, Maura leaned up on her toes and kissed Jane's cheek. "I'm going to go put some of these by his crate."

When Maura got back to the kitchen, it was to see that Jane had already set two plates and put one pancake on each of them. "I saw all those fancy jams and syrups and things you had," she said, "Natural preservatives and whatnot, but that's not what Christmas is about, I'm afraid."

"It's not?" Maura asked, sitting down.

"Nope." And before Maura could stop her, Jane leaned over and sprayed a liberal amount of whipped cream on top of her pancake. "Oh, and I put some chocolate-chips in there, too. Trust me, Maura, you're gonna love it. I swear."

In reality it was far too much sugar for Maura's liking, especially this early in the morning, but she had to admit the chocolate was a surprisingly nice touch. And it was difficult to be displeased when Jane looked so excited for her to try it, to share the experience with her.

After eating, Maura's next step was always to immediately wash the dishes, but Jane convinced her that today, they could wait. So she let Jane stack them up in the sink, and rather than worry about growing bacteria or at least the light unpleasant smell that was sure to soon follow, Maura went back to her room for Jane's gift. When she got back, it was to see that Jane was already sitting on the floor by the fireplace (in which she had earlier started a fire), the best Christmas-y substitute in light of the fact that Maura didn't have a tree.

Maura took the opposite end of the couch, settling under the large blanket Jane had already gotten out. Needlessly smoothing out her end, Maura asked, "So… do we open these at the same time, or does one of us go first?"

"You go ahead and open yours first," Jane said, handing over her package.

Obligingly, Maura set down the (rather large) box that had been on her lap to the floor, so she could take Jane's gift. She opened it with the same precision and gentleness with which she had opened Bass', and laughed once again in surprised delight once she had unwrapped it in its entirety. "I've never gotten a gift like this before," she said.

It was a box of tree ornaments, all themed from the _Nutcracker _ballet: a sugar plum fairy ballerina, a mouse dressed as a soldier, the mouse king, Clara, and of course a Nutcracker. Each had a small loop on top of their heads, threaded with glistening gold material.

"No pressure to get a tree, of course," Jane said. "Especially not for this year. But even if you don't want to get one next year, I just thought maybe you could cut off the thread and just use 'em as decoration."

"Jane, they're beautiful," Maura said, reverently taking off the lid and inspecting each ornament individually. "And you can bet I'll be getting a tree next year to put them on. Although you may have to help me locate a few more, so it won't be too sparse."

Clearly pleased that Maura liked the gift so much, Jane beamed and offered, "Or you could just get like a Charlie Brown tree—perfect size for that many ornaments."

"What's a Charlie Brown tree?" Maura asked innocently.

"Wow," Jane sighed. "I keep forgetting how much of an education you need."

"I have an M.D.," Maura said, sounding offended.

Jane narrowed her eyes. "Was that a joke?"

The anxious reply: "Only if it was funny."

Jane granted her a laugh and said, "Good one, Dr. Isles. Anyone ever says you don't have a sense of humor, you send 'em on over to me. Now what's that you've got for me there?" She asked not in order to bring the attention around back to herself, but to diver it, in a way: she was sure Maura had been about to ask where and how Jane had found such nice ornaments on such short notice. It had taken a couple of sleepless nights and a bit more driving around than Jane wanted to admit. Once Maura had handed her the sizeable gift, Jane said, "I've got it. It's a car."

"Jane."

"A new house?"

"Jane!"

"A horse!"

"Would you just open it?"

Showing about as much restraint as a five-year-old, Jane tore into the package and for a moment, stared in confusion at what appeared to be an empty cage. She lifted it so that it rested on her knees, and peering into a small dome in the cage, noticed a shell that might have fit in the palm of her hand.

"You got me a turtle?" she guessed.

Maura eagerly tucked her feet up on the couch and leaned closer. "A tortoise," she corrected. "A _Geochelone sulcata_, to be precise. Just like Bass! Now you have a pet, too. And I know it's a lot of responsibility, and you have a very demanding job, but tortoises are actually relatively low-maintenance. And furthermore, if you ever need any assistance, I would be happy to watch him for you—or I could recommend a good sitter if needs be."

"You know a turtle-sitter?" Jane laughed.

"Tortoise," Maura insisted, now looking a little perturbed.

Jane just laughed again, and looked back at the tiny animal, which had poked its head into view. "They're kinda cute when they're this small," she said. "What should I call him? I'm not really much good with naming pets."

"Well, you could always go with the name he came with."

"And what was that, Cosmic Creeper?"

"No," Maura said slowly, looking a little confused as to why Jane would even suggest such a thing. "It was Watson."

"Watson, eh?" Jane said. "I kinda like it. I don't think he's quite big enough yet for a full-on detective name, like Sherlock. Maybe he'll grow up to be portly, and it'll be perfect!"

"So you like him?" Maura asked eagerly.

"I do," Jane said genuinely. "I really do."

They parted ways about an hour later, when Jane would soon be expected to show up at her childhood home and Maura expected a phone call from her parents. It was a cliché time of year to get in touch, but it suited the Isles fine otherwise. Everyone else in the world used it as an excuse to catch up with people they rarely spoke to during the year, so why not? After the requisite family time passed for both of them, Jane would come back over to pick up Maura for Frank and Angela's Christmas party.

While Jane and her family went to visit Tommy, Maura did something she had never before done: gushed to her parents about who she was dating. They had known about Garrett, of course, and Constance remembered Maura once mentioning an Australian she'd been seeing, but this was the first time either Isles could remember Maura going on like this about someone she was seeing romantically. The easy, cynical thing to do would be to say it was because the romance had just started, and the freshness had yet to be cooked out of it, but that didn't quite account for all the brightness in their daughter's tone. She sounded lighter than she ever had.

"…and mother, you'll never guess where she took me for our first date."

"Policeman's ball?"

"The ballet! _The Nutcracker!_"

"Really? How sweet!" Constance laughed, sounding sincere. "She must know you well."

"I've just never been with someone this… considerate," Maura said. "She's just—oh, well, I don't want to bore you…"

"No, no," her father said. "Go ahead, Maura."

For some reason, it was easier to talk to them about all this over the phone than it was in person. There was no pressure, less formality, discussing it this way. She had somebody to spill all her schoolgirl feelings to, and did so with abandon, cutting herself off at first but slowly realizing how good it felt to share all this with someone. And not just anyone, but her family. Her parents. As their daughter spoke to them about this slightly reckless but completely romantic detective, Constance felt tears stinging at her eyes. This was the best Christmas gift she had ever gotten, and she didn't even know that she'd wanted it.

* * *

After all the festivities at the Rizzoli's had ended, Maura lamented to Jane that her parents hadn't called on the twenty-sixth, instead. Then she could have told them all about the party.

"What," Jane asked. "Do they only have a phone that works one way? Call them and tell 'em about it if you want to!"

So she did.

She called the next day to laugh about how, arriving back at Frank and Angela's house, Jane had immediately engaged in a snowball fight with the neighbors' kids. More appropriately dressed this time around, Maura had gotten involved as well. They hid behind a small fort Frankie had built up earlier, and as Frank diverted the kids' attention, Jane showed Maura how to sculpt the perfect snowball. But mostly she'd looked on in awe as this hard-edged detective, who'd seen and spilled real blood, treated this fight like an all-out war—just like the kids were. Without consciously doing so, Jane mimicked the sound-effects that the kids came up with as they hurled their snowballs, and she yelled melodramatically when she was finally hit.

(Maura skipped telling her parents about the part afterwards, when they had gone into the garage to remove their wet coats and gloves and boots, and wound up doing a little recreational activity of their own to warm-up. Mostly innocent, but Maura figured her parents didn't really need all the details of what Jane referred to as "tonsil-hockey.")

She did, however, tell them that the kids (whose families had been invited to the party) were all watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special as they warmed up by the fire, and Jane had made her sit through the half-hour special in its entirety. She smiled at the way Jane's hand had tapped out in rhythm to the movie's soundtrack, and laughed with her as the kids all tried to dance like the characters with limited success.

And then how she'd noticed a small stocking at the end of the fireplace, next to Jane's. It was simple, plain red with a white border at the top, and her name had been written on it with a black felt-tip pen. Inside were varying trinkets Jane had picked up, explaining as Maura picked excitedly through them where each had come from and what had inspired it. After going through it all, she kissed Jane on the lips and nobody covered their children's eyes.

With pride she recounted how respectful she had been when Frank read the Nativity story out of the Book of Luke, avoiding questioning that everyone accepted the story as, well, gospel, by picturing Renaissance paintings she had studied which depicted various scenes from the story. Jane had been sucking on a candy cane to keep herself awake.

The dinner was one she knew her father would have loved, pan-seared chicken with a festive pomegranate sauce practically poured on top of it—delicious, regardless of Sergeant Korsak's joke that it made it look as though the cooked chicken was bleeding. The kids kept trying to sneak some of their parents' drinks. Jane's garlic potatoes were a success, which more than made up for the somewhat chewy green beans Frankie had tried to prepare.

The neighbors brought trays of various desserts—sugar cookies and peanut brittle being the first to go. Korsak had also brought a bunch of chocolate lava cakes, which he attempted to pass off for his own until Angela ratted him out, explaining that she'd had to heat them up for him after he ditched the Trader Joe's box from whence they had come.

Constance and Desmond could practically see Maura blush with embarrassment as she said the night ended with caroling around the piano, which Frank was surprisingly good at playing. Maura was so tone-deaf that she was way off with just the first note, so she was happy mostly to listen. But Jane had thrown an arm around her and shoved the music book in front of her face, saying that if _she _was singing, Maura had to as well. She very softly, basically mouthed along, unable to keep a smile off her face.

And then, once all the guests were gone, nobody had wanted to clean up. Frank was fast asleep on the couch, Frankie was eating one last sugar cookie, and Jane was on the verge of drifting off herself (not that she wasn't riveted by Angela's gift, a page-a-day calendar with quotes from every edition of _Chicken Soup for the Soul_ on it). Maura had insisted on helping Angela clean, seeing as she'd done nothing to help prepare. At first, Angela refused, but Maura maintained conversation with her, and naturally fell into place as her cleaning partner.

Once all was said and put away, Frankie had left, and Angela had dragged Frank off to bed. Maura did not fully detail for her parents just how peaceful Jane had looked when Maura went back out to the living room to find her. She'd been stretched out on the floor in front of the fire place, its dying embers leaving the faintest glow on her face, her features relaxed with sleep. She did, however, divulge how surprisingly soft the floor had been, and how she'd been able to keep Jane undisturbed as she lay down next to her with a blanket she'd pulled from the couch. And how she had shortly fallen asleep there afterwards.

"It sounds like you had a wonderful holiday," Constance said.

"Words can't begin to describe."

"Well, we're glad you tried, anyway," Desmond chuckled. "So what's on the agenda for you and Jane today?"

"Oh, we're back at work. The fun never stops around here!"

"Fun?" Constance laughed. "Isn't that a bit macabre for your line of work, dear?"

"Mm, you may be right," Maura conceded. "But I can't help it—I love my job. I do. And I appreciate the people I get to work with. And Jane—well, 'fun' may not be the best word to describe what it is we do on the job, no. But whatever it is, wherever we are and what you would call it…" She laughed. "It never stops."

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading, guys! It's still winter, so this story's not _totally _out of season yet, right? :-p I've got an epilogue to wrap this all up with, and then it'll be all cozy and done, and back to that business with the western and Kate Todd.


	9. Chapter 9: Epilogue

**A/N**: So a few people asked whether I was going to finally post the promised epilogue to this fluff-fest, and, well, here it is! Sorry it's so late, but um, Christmas in July anyone? :D Cheers, and thanks for reading!

* * *

** One Year Later**

Jane could not remember a span of time when she had been happier. Twelve months of dating Maura Isles. Twelve months of planning dinners, family holidays, meeting parents, having arguments, making up, and making out. Twelve months of laughing, crying, frustrated phone calls and eye rolls and flowers and bunny pancakes. Something to work hard for besides the job. Something Jane actually wanted to fix when it broke down on occasion. In a year's time she grew in ways she didn't know possible: she became more courageous, more willing to talk things out. She'd gotten closer to her mother because of the special bond that Angela and Maura seemed to share.

For the first time in over a decade, Maura celebrated Easter. She went to a Fourth of July barbecue, afterwards making love to Jane while everyone else left to see fireworks and they could almost pretend those explosions were all in their heads. She helped hand out Halloween candy in a costume Angela had made for her (scrubs alone wouldn't do for an actual doctor). She was given the chance to prepare her own Thanksgiving turkey, using a recipe she'd been dying to try for ages.

Snow had first come in November, but there seemed to be an added romance to it when December finally arrived, and the Christmas spirit enveloped Boston entirely. Songs blasted from every store, tinsel hung on nearly every window, and large, electric snowflakes illuminated the streets on various lampposts.

As a surprise early Christmas gift for Maura, Jane had asked Mr. and Mrs. Isles if they would be able to spend the holiday in Boston. They said yes, and while the skeptical part of Jane thought that was only because Constance was giving a speech at a new exhibit at the Boston Fine Arts Gallery (and the timing worked out), she was glad they had arranged to stay through the new year.

On December 23rd, Maura was poring over some notes from a cold case in her office when her phone buzzed.

_Yo, Dr. Death! Got some peeps up here who want a word. _

_ You mean color-sugarcoated marshmallow fluff in the shape of a rabbit or chick? Do they want a word with my stomach? :) _

(One of Maura's favorite Rizzoli family traditions she'd been introduced to were Jane and Frankie's Easter "peep wars," where they would both stick a toothpick in a peep, put them in a microwave, and see whose got stabbed by the other's toothpick first. That marked the first occasion Maura had ever tried a peep, and her sweet tooth grew instantly as a result.)

_ …peeps like people, Maura. Live ones. Can you come up for a sec?_

Naturally curious, Maura headed for the elevators. On the way, she passed Susie, who appeared to be walking around in a bit of a daze. "Test results are in," she muttered. "I'm hungover."

"Had a little too much fun at the department holiday party last night?" Maura asked with a laugh.

"Why weren't you and Detective Rizzoli there?" Susie asked. "…or is that too personal of a question?"

"Not at all," Maura laughed. "Jane just asked if I would rather spend the night alone together, after we'd spent so much time here on the Barringer case. It felt good to celebrate in our own way and, well, on our own." Putting a hand slyly to the side of her mouth, she whispered, "If I went into any more detail, _then _it would be getting too personal!"

Susie just nodded and smiled back as Maura laughed. "Congrats on having a hot girlfriend."

Maura twirled into the elevator as it finally opened. "Thank you!" As she went up, she couldn't help whistling "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer," Jane's favorite seasonal tune. Initially the song hadn't set well with her, but after meeting Frank Sr.'s formidable mother at a Rizzoli barbecue over the summer, Maura had to admit Jane's taste was understandable.

Jane was waiting for her at the elevator, and pulled her in for a quick kiss on the cheek as soon as Maura stepped out. Jane's shirt was a bold red color, foisted on her by Maura so they could match for the day—Maura's dress was an equally striking red, which looked quite nice when coupled with the dark green coat and gloves that were resting in her office. Shopping was not something Jane was particularly fond of, and Maura was the first person she'd ever allowed to actually shop _for _her. More often than not, items were returned, but there was the rare piece of apparel (like this red shirt) that Jane admitted looked pretty good.

"What's all the excitement about?" Maura asked, as Jane took her arm and led the way to the Division One Café.

"It's part one of your Christmas present this year," Jane said.

They entered the café, and there sat Constance and Desmond, chatting up Angela. Maura came to an automatic dead halt as soon as she saw them, rendered speechless by her shock at seeing them. There were smiles all around, and genuine ones at that, yet Maura still needed Jane to tug her elbow in order to get her fully into the café. Desmond was the first to sweep up, putting an arm around Maura and kissing her firmly on the forehead. Constance came up to her other side, kissing her on the cheek in greeting.

"Mother, father," Maura laughed, turning her head to look at both of them. "I didn't …I thought you were spending Christmas in Acapulco after mother came—alone—to speak at BFAC."

"Acapulco is lovely any time of year," Constance said. "But Boston in winter! Is there any better place one could spend it?"

"New York?" Desmond half-jokingly suggested.

"I swear, Des, you start talking up the Yankees again and you are dis-invited from our family's Christmas party," Jane said, pointing a finger at him warningly. He held his hands up in silent defeat and Jane grinned. They had all met when Maura had gotten Jane to accompany her to Paris over the summer, as her parents never seemed to be in the States at the same time.

Maura was still looking at her parents in disbelief. "I can't believe you pulled this off," she said to Jane. "How did you do it?"

"Ah, you know me," Jane said. "I'm sneaky, and you love that about me."

"I adore it," Maura corrected her, pulling away from her parents to give Jane a chaste kiss. "No but really, how did you manage it?"

"Wasn't that hard," Jane said with a shrug. "I guess it helped that your mother was coming anyway, and your folks are pretty agreeable people, Maura. You just gotta ask. So Pop picked 'em up from the airport this morning, brought 'em by the ole Rizzoli B&B for some coffee and muffins—" (which Maura struggled to imagine her mother going for, considering the types of products the Rizzoli's tended to keep in stock) "—but they insisted on dropping by to see you before crashing at your place."

"You're staying with me?" Maura asked excitedly.

"Dear, of course we are!" Constance laughed. "Jane informed us that you have a guest house, do you not?"

Maura gasped and turned back to Jane. "_That's_ why you insisted on decorating it!"

"Exactly," Jane chuckled, kissing the top of Maura's head. "And you still didn't figure it out. You are the dumbest genius I know."

"But you love that about me," Maura threw back at her.

"Oh, Maura, I _adore _it."

* * *

Maura and Jane took an early lunch break to drive her parents (quite exhausted from their trip) to her home. They borrowed Angela's car, as that was where their luggage was still sitting. When they got inside Maura's home, Constance laughed in delight at seeing Maura's tree. It was strung with lights of various colors, and was relatively small given the size of Maura's home—but it fit the number of ornaments she had to decorate it, which weren't very many. Still it was a beautiful tree, and clearly a real one: with vague environmental notions, the Isles had bought a fake tree when Maura was seven and hauled it out of storage every year, when it would go on to be dressed by professionals in a very impersonal style.

As Jane and Maura helped Desmond bring the luggage through to the guesthouse, Constance sat on the sofa nearest the tree and leaned over to inspect the ornaments. She recognized various characters from the Nutcracker, and reasoned that those must have been gifts from Jane, since that ballet had been the site of their first date. And there, if she wasn't mistaken, was Charlie Brown, and Snoopy in a Santa hat, and … whatever that bird's name was on that show, she couldn't remember.

There was a polar bear eating an ice cream cone, and Constance recognized the style from a shop near their apartment in Paris. Santa and a reindeer sticking out of the windows of a New York City taxicab, with Santa's bag of toys on top of the car. Rudolph, a snowman voiced by Burl Ives, and a misfit toy. Santa dressed as a cop. Santa dressed as a doctor. Two stars that had probably been purchased at Swarovski's. A translucent dove that shone brightly, placed in front of a cluster of white lights. A ship with a wreath on its sail, _Mayflower_ written on its side. An ice-skating penguin with a purple scarf. A tortoise. A little dog in a doghouse strung with lights and covered in snow.

Constance had always thought that Christmas trees were a bit kitschy, especially when people got maudlin or tacky about them. That's why their tree had always been decorated professionally: the only service it really provided was to be a backdrop for their extravagant holiday parties. Most people tended to let their trees get too cluttered with random ornaments, and Constance had never been one to let sentimentality override taste.

And yet, Jane and Maura's tree looked so beautiful to her.

She could not say for certain whether Maura had, for example, bought the Swarovski stars on her own or if Jane had gotten them for her. But Constance recognized most of the items as part of an exhibited scrapbook: they documented trips that Jane and Maura had taken together, shows they had enjoyed together, and liked things they had shared with each other. It didn't come off as tacky at all. It was personal. It felt intimate, each ornament almost like a postcard, giving the onlooker at least a hint of why it had wound up on its owner's tree.

"Not too fancy, I know." Constance looked up to see that Jane had since come in, and was walking towards her. "But Maura got a real kick out of cutting it down."

"You got the tree yourselves?"

"Yeah." Jane laughed at the memory, sitting next to Constance and openly admiring the tree. "There's this great farm about thirty miles north of here that my parents always took us to when we were growing up. It's run by the son of the guy who owned it when I was a kid, and you should've heard him laugh when he saw us give Maura the saw!"

"Taught him a lesson, huh?" Constance asked with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah. Maura got that sucker down faster than the combined efforts of my father and brother on another tree! I hope she likes it, but I got her a new bone saw for Christmas," Jane said, nodding at one of the gifts under the tree. "It's supposed to be able to cut a femur in less than twenty-eight seconds."

Meanwhile, Maura had just hung up the last of her mother's dresses as Desmond tiredly removed his shoes. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment and Maura paused, wondering if he wanted to be left alone to sleep. But he patted the comforter next to him, and she quickly went to sit by his side.

"So," he said. "My girl. How're things? You happy?"

She beamed. "Yes."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes, dad. I'm so happy."

She didn't have to tell him anything more. She didn't have to say that with Jane, when an argument arose, she didn't panic and shut down. She didn't blame herself. She fought her case, she won, she was willing to accept it when she was wrong and lost. She didn't have to elaborate that the work she put in this relationship was well worth the effort. How she'd grown up accustomed to men viewing her with dollar signs in their eyes, while Jane made her feel priceless. How nothing snapped her out of a mood quicker than one of Jane's smiles, or embraces if a smile wasn't enough. How Jane was patient enough to explain the joke, to let Maura on it, to laugh when she took a shot at joking herself.

In the past it had been,

_"So, my girl. How're things? You happy?" _

_ "Yes, father."_

_ It was always a distant reply. "You sure about that?" Again, half-joking._

_ She would sigh, find a way to be honest: "I'm happy enough." _

Desmond had waited for the day when that qualifier would be gone, and now it finally was. Judging by Maura's tone of voice and the look on her face, it wouldn't ever come back to encroach upon her happiness.

He had never been particularly good at expression his emotions in front of his daughter. It led to a bit of an odd relationship between them: unlike Constance, he was pretty good at asking questions and keeping in touch, but he was lousy at going beneath the surface. Any implications that a dive was in order, and he would anxiously change the subject.

"This is a beautiful house, you know," he said. "I always thought so, when I saw the pictures. But it really seems like a home to me, now."

"That sentiment never made much sense to me before," Maura giggled. "But I get it now." _Things just make more sense with Jane around. _

"The Rizzoli's home is nice, too," Desmond said casually. "A tad… smaller than this one. I only say that because Jane mentioned that Christmas dinner will be held there, and she was rattling off the guest list to us, and…"

Maura nodded. "You think it would make more sense to have it here."

"Well, only because of all the room," he said uncomfortably.

She inhaled deeply and smiled, giving her father's knee a quick, reassuring pat. "Trust me, dad. There's no greater feeling than being stuffed into a small house with loads of people, kids running everywhere, and more junk food around than you know what to do with. It's the perfect cure."

"Cure for what?"

"For whatever ails you!"

"Well right now, sleep deprivation ails me," Desmond said, removing his glasses and setting them on the nightstand. "If it's all right, I think I'll lie down for a while."

"Certainly! Jane and I should be getting back to work soon, anyway. But we'll see you later?"

Desmond fell back onto the bed. "Of course."

He sat up a bit when he heard Maura say "dad" a bit shyly at the doorway. He raised his eyebrows, and she said, "I'm really glad you came along with mom."

He smiled. "Merry Christmas, Maura."

* * *

_"Grandma got run over by a reindeer/walkin' home from our house, Christmas eve/ you can say there's no such thing as Santa /but as for me and Grandpa, we believe!_"

As Jane and Constance belted out the final chorus, Maura could not stop laughing. "Mother! I can't believe you know the lyrics to that song!"

"Well you certainly shouldn't take it as any indication of my feelings towards a certain mother-in-law," Constance said.

"Hey!" Desmond cried.

"It's a joke, dear."

"No, it wasn't."

"You're right, it wasn't."

"Is anyone going to tell me where we're going?" Maura sighed.

They were piled into Maura's car, Jane driving as she followed the van that carried her parents, Frankie, and his girlfriend Riley. This was something Jane had been planning for a few weeks now, and had decided to leave it as a secret, because nothing was cuter than catching Maura Isles in delighted surprise. Snow covered the landscape, and as they were driving in a direction Maura had yet to explore, she really was at a loss for what they might be doing. She wasn't too bothered, though; it had been entertaining to hear Jane and Desmond sing along with the carols on the radio—Constance had rolled her eyes most of the time until the tried and true classic of _Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer_ came over the waves.

"Are we at least getting close?" Maura asked.

"Maybe," Jane said, nodding out the window on Maura's side.

A horse-drawn sleigh, complete with bells and a driver in period apparel, wasn't too far out of sight. There was a short pause, and something clicked. "Jane," Maura said slowly. "Are you taking me where I think you're taking me?"

"Um, what makes you think this is all about you?" Jane teased her. "I happen to have it on good authority that your dad has always loved ponies and wanted to ride in a horse-drawn sleigh."

Desmond sighed dramatically. "Is she always like this?" he asked Maura. "Cracking jokes at other people's expense?"

The question had been put forward in good spirits, making Maura comfortable enough to reply, "All the time."

Once they had arrived and everyone was congregated waiting for sleighs, Angela pulled Jane aside. "This site is _gorgeous_, Jane. Frankie was telling us on the drive up how much time you spent picking a good place."

"Yeah, it's nice, huh?" Jane said proudly. Star-shaped lights were hung from most of the trees on the path, adding even more of a cozy atmosphere to the snow.

"It's beautiful." She nudged Jane in the ribs. "It'd be a nice place to get down on one knee."

"And…. do my ventriloquist act?"

Angela slapped her shoulder, and Jane laughed. "I'm serious, Jane! Have you and Maura even discuss—"

"Hey look, here comes a sleigh!" Jane said loudly, grabbing everyone's attention. "It's two per carriage, who's up first?"

Frankie shoved Maura at Jane. "You two, I think!"

"All righty, then!" Jane laughed, jumping into the sleigh as soon as it pulled up. Maura eagerly stepped in after her, and they waved cheerfully to their family as they rode off.

They had dressed for the cold, particularly Maura, who (as always) was dressed to the nines. But all the coats and gloves and scarves in the world couldn't keep her from wanting to snuggle next to Jane under the enormous blanket that hung in front of them. Maura pulled it over them, tucking an arm around Jane. For a while, they were happy just to silently enjoy the ride together, the beauty of the landscape and just the beauty of the fact that Jane had thought to arrange this.

"I don't know about you," Jane said softly, "but when I was a kid, winter was my favorite season. I just have all these memories of me and Frankie and Tommy messing around in the snow—we'd build forts, and have snowball fights, make snow angels. Or snow demons, as Tommy thought it would be _cooler_ to say. I mean as a kid, you don't have to worry about snow tires or digging your car free from the driveway. You don't think about black ice. You just think of it as… well, this," she said, gesturing to the snow-topped trees around them. "It's just this marshmallow blanket of fluff, and even though it's cold, it makes you feel warm somehow. Does that make sense?"

"Absolutely. I think it's sweet."

"Yeah," Jane said with a happy sigh.

Maura laughed to herself a moment later. "I never thought I'd have a Christmas like this, Jane."

"Like what?"

"Like lots of things, I suppose. My family hasn't spent it together since my senior—no, junior year of high school, and that itself was a fluke. Usually I stayed abroad, because it felt simpler. And all I thought about were snow tires, and digging my car free from the driveway, and the black ice," she chuckled, and Jane smiled. Maura rested her head on Jane's shoulder. "But then last year you came to my house past midnight, and you shoveled my driveway."

"And you invited me in for some cocoa."

"And we fell asleep on the couch. And now snow looks more like a marshmallow blanket to me than it ever did when I was younger. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, doc."

First ones gone, first ones back. Jane had figured they would just wait for everybody else to return (before going into a nearby establishment for wassail), but Maura had other plans. Appearing a little nervous, she took Jane by the hand and guided her over to a slightly more secluded area. Darkness had yet to fully set in, or maybe that was just because the nearby lights were so bright—still, Jane could see well enough to tell that Maura looked anxious.

"Honey, are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Jane. I'm better than I ever have been," she said, fidgeting slightly, hands shoved into her pockets. "I'm just…" She closed her eyes and turned her head away from Jane, trying to steady herself.

"Uh…"

"Hold on, just give me a second," Maura breathed. She opened her eyes and cleared her throat. "Jane, I don't know if you understand, sometimes."

"I don't," Jane said, holding her hands up in admission of defeat. "I'm an idiot. That's why I need you to actually go back and translate about eighty percent of the things you say at work, so I _can _understand them."

"I'd say it's more akin to eighty-five percent, but I'm not talking about work," Maura said. "Sometimes I'm not sure if you fully comprehend …how much you've changed my life. Y-you just make me so happy, happier than I ever thought I could be. I remember when I first met you, I envied you for how easily you seemed to get along with people and I was envious of everyone at BPD who was comfortable being with you, laughing at your jokes with you. I was in awe of you, but you made me nervous. Not—because I was intimidated by you," she said quickly, as Jane's expression had turned a little guilty. "In that… sort of… seventh-grade-girl crush kind of way."

"You had a crush on me from the start," Jane clarified.

"Yes, but it got easier to deal with in time. I just had no idea. When we became friends, I had no idea…"

"That we would reach this stage? Trust me, honey, I didn't either."

Maura was on the verge of tears, holding one gloved hand to her mouth and using the other to wave away Jane's invitation for an embrace. "No, I mean—I had no idea how much you were going to enrich my life, Jane. Every aspect of it. You make me want to be stronger, and your family has been so open and inviting, and I love that you make me laugh and you put up with my—'put up' isn't even really right, because I know you appreciate all of my… weird quirks."

"I love them," Jane assured her quietly, pulling her in for a soft kiss. They pulled apart, and Jane was beaming, no longer shy about being entirely open with her emotions. "Getting to spend every day with you makes me feel ridiculously lucky, Maura. I love getting to be that person for you, and I love having you be that person for me."

"Wait," Maura said a little breathlessly. "Wait, there was more…" She looked a little pained.

"More?"

"Yes, I—I never was sure before," she said, her voice wavering. "I mean it was always hard for me to know, in relationships, when I'd …if I'd…" She met Jane's bright, patient, slightly-confused eyes one more time.

Then she fumbled in her coat pocket for something and dropped to one knee, holding a small velvet box open for Jane. The snow instantly clung to and soaked her denim pant leg, numbing it almost immediately, but Maura was focused on nothing but the look of shock on Jane's face. The word "marriage" had been casually tossed about a couple of months previously, when a rather grisly case had gotten them on the topic of childhood wedding fantasies. It was hard not to feel like the conversation was direct as Jane guided it, and though they'd both felt comfortable talking about it, there had been an assumption that it was still a ways down the pike.

"Jane, I don't see the point in waiting anymore," Maura said, trembling with nerves. "I'm so in love with you, and I just want—I want to have in my life for the _rest _of my life, and I want so badly to be a part of yours." Her nerves dissipated when Jane finally smiled, then laughed, clearly brushing away tears. "I would be so …I would be so…" Oh, every word she had planned just melted away when Jane was looking at her like this. "S-so honored and grateful and excited if you would please marry me."

Jane sank to her knees and pulled Maura into a searing kiss. Maura nearly dropped the box before quickly kissing Jane back, pushing forward. Jane broke it off quickly afterwards, and Maura looked down between them to realize Jane was holding a small, velvet box as well.

"Always two steps ahead of me, aren't you, Dr. Smartypants?" Jane laughed, sniffing and wiping at her eyes.

"So that's a yes?" Maura asked.

Jane laughed incredulously. "That's a choir of heavenly angels assorting themselves with banners and vuvuzelas, yelling 'yes' in every language known to man!"

"Actually, I think that's our families," Maura said, looking to their left.

Frank, Angela, Constance, and Desmond were all clustered several yards away, looking on happily. The flash of Angela's camera didn't even bother Jane as she took Maura by the hand, bringing her back to her feet.

"She said yes!" they both yelled to their respective parents.

**The End :)**


End file.
